Trial By Fire
by Measured
Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. Scout/Miss Pauling
1. Chapter 1

Title: Trial By Fire (1)  
>Series: TF2<br>Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, Administrator, Saxton Hale,  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. With time running out, Gray Mann's armies quickly closing in and everyone a possible suspect, she and Scout try to flush out the mole before everything is lost.  
>Author's note: The base is a mix of Well and 2Fort. Done for robotbigbang 2014. <strong>Contains character death and canon-typical violence.<strong>

This was outlined before any of ROF aired or was even announced, so any similarities or divergences with that plot are a coincidence.

A big thanks to Multiversecafe and Hazmad for betaing, offering moral support, and in Multiversecafe's case, doing the art for the big bang. I couldn't link it due to FFN restrictions, but if you check out her Deviantart or tumblr account you can see them.

**.**

They came to the abandoned base at dark, stooped, weary and barely standing. Even with the many chemical enhancements Medic had pioneered throughout the years, even with the Respawn system to make new all their scarred skin and wounds, the war had The last defense had lasted hours, and while the museum had been saved, it was only because Gray Mann had decided to send his forces elsewhere. The small group was made only of the nine mercenaries, herself, and a few tech agents to help run the base. It was a skeleton team, one that put too much stress on both the people behind the scenes and the mercenaries, but it was all they could spare.

They didn't even have an Administrator with them to oversee any skirmishes. Locked in her secret base, she was attending to something else. Something that would end the war, Miss Pauling was sure, though not even she had enough clearance to find out what her boss was up to.

She fumbled open rusted gates, her hands clumsy with fatigue. She mentally repeated the numbers in her head as she inputted them in the locks. It took three tries, the numbers slipped, blended together into green and black.

The machines had kept relentlessly coming, and even the most animated of the team were looking worn down. She hadn't heard Scout say a single thing for hours.

There hadn't been a reading of foreign technological matter on the radar, which was the only good news of what had happened that day.

It took several moments to get the generators fired up. Rust had started to settle in, and if they were going to stay any longer, there'd have to be quite a few repairs, but for the night...it would do.

She held the lantern as Engineer pushed his welding mask down. The lantern swung, leaving trails of light across the walls. A scrape, a creeping creak of metal. She looked up past the shadows to see the screens flicker to life.

On the horizon in the screens, she saw the reflection of metal, doors opening. Hordes of robots streamed out from the doors, marching towards the base.

A ear-piercing sound like a shriek, and the crackle of static came over the every screen. She dropped the lantern, glass shattering and light flickering off as she reached for the rusted microphone. In lieu of a higher ranked official, she had defaulted to status of temporary Administrator.

"The base is under attack. I repeat, the base is under attack. All men to station...over."

She didn't sound imposing enough to even pretend to fill the shoes of the Administrator at a costume party. She cleared her throat and tried again in her most imposing voice.

"Don't you dare fail me," she said.

The screens clouded over. Out from the smoke came more robots than they had ever faced before. She gripped the microphone and tried to find something to say. Administrator could bend anyone to her will with words and a glare alone. Over the gunfire and hopeless battle, she yelled commands. With each passing second, even as the horde overwhelmed them, it became easier.

Fake it until you make it had been her motto as she put the bodies away, as she learned the hard workload and watched herself disappear into a girl with a heart of steel.

This was just another step along the way.

But for all their effort, all her words, the battle might as well have been lost before it even started. There were limited supplies, barely a working Respawn, and the men were already weary. Despite the upgrades Engineer and Medic had done, they were flesh and bone fighting against metal which did not feel, didn't need nourishment or rest.

Gray Mann must have simply been toying with them, luring them into the illusion that he had retired for the night, only to round them up in this base largely made of wood, sending nothing by Pyro robots of increasing size. The sprinkler system had long ago gone offline, with pipes rusted shut.

The chair was bolted to the floor. The glass swept up to a corner, broom abandoned against the wall. All she had on her was a little revolver, not even enough to take out the weakest of the robots. There seemed no data of note to be stolen.

"Go on ahead," she said absently. From the lower corner window, she could see the farthest right entrance was already consumed in flames.

The assistant nearest her was an older man, who had lasted a long time, longer than most workers under this company ever did. He must be was too useful to be simply buried away like so many of the assistants and workers through the years.

Gray lined his temples. His eyes were darker than his hair, and full of what-knowledge? Worry?  
>By the time she hit double digits of people she'd had to kill, she stopped remembering names.<p>

"But, Miss Pauling, you'll—" He said.

"I'll be okay," she said with more confidence than she actually felt. "Just go. Get the rest of the assistants out."

The assistant nodded. "I'll salvage what I can of the tech."

"Don't bother; it's better to let some secrets burn to the ground."

He left with some reluctance, and a passing glance behind him. She didn't linger, or think of the children he might leave behind if he perished in the blaze. Sweat matted her hair to her face. Still, she methodically deleted every fragment, and pulled the last of the paper files from their fireproof storage units.

The fire worked rapidly on the dry, old wood of the fort. This was why it'd been abandoned in the first place, this was why so many other bases had been turned to less flammable options. She'd chosen it above the other choices because it was obscure enough to give them shelter without the chance of interruption, or so she had assumed. More screens showed nothing but rooms consumed by fire.

She wouldn't have to worry about the computers; they wouldn't survive this heat, but the papers were stored in heat-proof filing cabinets that were strong enough to survive a bomb going off beside them.

She heard a crash, the sound of a gun firing once, twice. The clatter of shells, the slamming of something hard against the wall. She pulled out her weapon, minuscule as it was. She couldn't even take out a Scout robot with this, but she wouldn't go down without a fight.

Had she even tried to fire, she would've missed him. He came that fast, blurring the edges as he pushed past flames completely invulnerable for those brief seconds. He had a blanket doused in water over his shoulders, and a gas mask pulled down across his face. At first she'd thought it was Pyro somehow without his suit, but as the figure came closer, he pulled up the mask.

Smoked-stained and smudgy, there were burn marks on his arms. His red shirt was slashed, and riddled with bullet holes. But through it all, he'd come for her.

"Miss Pauling! Come on, come on, we're getting out of here!"

"Quick, help me turn over this filing cabinet," she said.

"But-"

_"Hurry!"_

Without another word, he gripped the side of the metal cabinet. She ignored the heat clinging to the metal, the heat coming in, the smoke. Together, they overturned and opened each of the five cabinets. Secrets curled from heat. She coughed and bent over, already feeling woozy.

Smoke had already filled the room. A second glance showed it wasn't that he hadn't shut the door, but that the flames were already at their doorstep.

"C'mere," he said hoarsely. He pushed the mask over her face, and wrapped her in the damp blanket. He pulled a can from his bag, and guzzled the BONK until his skin vibrated with energy. She wasn't sure how many he'd downed to get through the blaze, but he wasn't content with one. He guzzled a second can, then scooped her up.

"You can't take another can of Bonk so quickly–"

"I was built to break these rules. Screw _can't._"

The mask closed over her face, and everything disappeared into a cold, dark gray. She clung tighter around his neck. The world was indiscriminate shapes and blotches, and heat which left her even dizzier.

Outside the main doors was a well, though its proximity and mentions in the old files made her think that it'd been a part of quite a few tortures. She'd never used it, though someone before her surely could have.

She pushed up the mask, and glanced around. In the twilight, the shapes and figures were amorphous blotches, at least until more fire and gunfire lit the night. Stacks of unused coal and gravel crunched under his feet. More robots were coming their way— a whole horde of them. The men must have fallen, or the horde was so large that they had overwhelmed the scant defense.  
>She tried to reach for her gun, but it was hard to reach under the damp woolen blanket which itched and clung to her skin.<p>

"You better hold on tight, Miss Pauling. Things are about to get pretty bumpy."

He took off at a run from the remains of the base. The smoke was thicker here, enough that she ducked her face back under the cover. The fire, the smoke lessened in the pure dark wool dampness. She clung tight, struggling to breathe. She must have inhaled more smoke than she thought, as her lungs already ached.

He abruptly stopped, jarring enough to almost make Miss Pauling lose her grip.

"Take a deep breath, Miss P! As deep as you can, and hold it!"

The blanket fell away, disappearing into the large, uncovered well.

She had about three second's warning before the icy cold water shocked her system. She almost gasped, letting out what little air she had in her lungs, but she caught herself.

Scout hung on to the rusted ladder tines with one hand. With the other, he kept a hold on her, kept her from drifting away into the depths of a tunnel so deep and dark, she would drown long before she could ever push to the surface. Miss Pauling held on tight, her cheeks bulging with air. She'd never been a particularly good swimmer, a large reason being that she couldn't hold her breath for very long. As her chest burned, she clawed her way to the tines of the ladder, and then, to the surface.

Miss Pauling struggled, floundering for only a moment. A giant Pyro robot with several little ones were turning what remained of the fort into a hellish scene. In a series of beeps and clacks, one of the robots saw her. She caught sight of a blue dot settling near her shoulders, aiming straight for her head. She took another gasping breath before she dove back down, just barely missing being hit.

She remembered his bragging once—_I can hold my breath for eight minutes. _ Her body screamed for air. Every thought drew to desperately clawing at the surface, an option which would bring about certain death.

She held his chin and pulled him close until his mouth closed over hers. It was the sole point of warmth in the bone-chilling cold of the water. Her hair had come undone, and floated about them in dark tendrils. Air bubbles floated up around them, between the seams of their mouths. Despite the nearness of death, which could come with water in their lungs, a single breath taken too soon, she felt a sliver of comfort settle inside her. The world was burning down outside them, but in the dark and cold, she held on tighter and shared a breath, a kiss.

If she pulled back, she'd be breathing in icy water. It was only when the panic overtook her, when the desperate need for another breath left her lungs feeling like little flames had gotten inside her lungs that she broke away and pushed towards the surface.

Numb with cold, with the aftershocks of his lips on hers, she gasped for breath. The fires were a distant glow in the horizon.

"W-we've got to m-move, w-we won't s-survive l-like this," she said. The cold had gotten deep inside her, enough to keep her shuddering, her teeth chattering so much she could barely talk. There was no safety of a base to withdraw to. The night had only grown colder during the time underwater.

She stumbled, her clothes heavy with water, but caught herself before she tripped down. She reached to her thigh holster, only to find it empty.

Like the blanket, it was probably at the bottom of the well.

"Please say you didn't lose your gun in there," she said.

"No problem, I got this," he said.

He opened up his duffle bag. Cans rattled, as he moved his fingers, there was a sound of crunching food wrappers.

Scout tossed her a handgun, and she just barely caught it with cold-numbed fingers. He pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and put two shells in.

An inferno of burning and destroyed buildings lit the night. They slipped out past the skirmish, stealing into every shadow they could find. Each step was another little alert to their presence through the hills of gravel.

"We ain't alone," he said.

She couldn't see them through the haze, but she could hear the working of gears. The buildings here hadn't been completely destroyed. Riddled with bullet holes, but the flames hadn't reached this far. She dragged out a piece of rusted root metal which had fallen off years ago, and laid to rest against the collapsing walls. It wasn't much of a shield, but it would prolong their deaths for a few seconds. She wouldn't die running.

"I got this, you go back further, Miss Pauling," he said.

The horde of robot Pyros was like a walking wall of flame and metal. Scout fired off two shots, quickly reloaded and fired off two more. She fired off an entire clip into the nearest Pyro robot, only to have them glance harmlessly off its shoulders. Any closer and they'd have to retreat. She reloaded, her fingers clumsy and numb. The night filled with the coming army, a futuristic fire and brimstone nightmare.

Scout disappeared between them, quick shots and jumps. He'd caught their attention, but a scream of pain showed he hadn't missed every flame. He disappeared between the robots, didn't rise up.

The shield was too flimsy, she wasn't strong enough to hold back an entire army. Still, she emptied clip after clip into them until she had nothing left. She bent down to scramble for spent shells, rocks, anything to keep them at bay long enough to survive.

Behind her, Miss Pauling heard the growl of a mini-gun revving up. Safety wasn't far, all they had to do was last that much longer.

"Scout! Respawn isn't working here. You've got to get out of there!"

She yelled above the din, yelled until her voice grew hoarse. He rose up from in-between the robots, clothes blacked and bloodied. He wiped the blood from his mouth. He took a running leap, a graceful arc across the robots. He landed near her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the rain of bullets. They landed in the gravel together, with scraped knees and bloodied cheeks. Burns covered his leg and chest, the material turned black and frayed apart.

Even as he cringed with pain, he gripped her wrist and pulled her farther away from the battlefield.

"Come on, Miss Pauling. We're almost there. The cavalry is here," Scout said. His voice hoarse with smoke. He coughed hard enough that blood stained his bandages.

"We're almost there," she said.

Pushing past his pain, he helped her up and they limped closer to the camp. The mini-gun, and Heavy roared on behind them. His laughter, and the Medic with him filled the night.

Into the winding gravel road, she caught sight of the rest, with a few orderlies. Sniper aimed through the dark to hit the stragglers that escaped the wall of Medic and Heavy. Larger explosions filled the night; Soldier and Demoman had joined the fray.

"Get his leg looked at," she said.

"Medic is still fightin'," Engineer said.

"We've got salve to spare," she said.

A blanket was thrown about her shoulders before she could even say a word. She turned around to see Scout trying to smile through the pain.

"Don't worry about me, I'll take it like a real champ," he said.

"You're goin' to be chilled to the bone wanderin' around like that. We were beginin' to think Scout here couldn't find you," Engineer said.

"Like hell we were, as long as I'm alive, Miss Pauling is goin' to be just fine," Scout said. He was too tired to even go on much more. His bragging was halfhearted.

The rest of the men returned, too tired to be triumphant. Medic healed them up with new scars, all save her. Salve was all she her body could stand. For once, she didn't drive, and she didn't give orders. The older assistant gave the instructions, and she sat in the back, too tired to sleep, too tired to think. The blanket wrapped about her was thin, scratchy, a little protection against the chill of the night wind. He was asleep on her shoulder, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Maybe all his posturing about Boston winters wasn't hyperbole at all, if he could fall asleep after sinking into that well.

Or the Bonk had gotten to him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd faced unpleasant side effects from the drink.

It was miles to the next base, which for all they knew, might be overrun. The fire of the lost base was a bright star in the horizon, a marker of another battle they'd lost. She blipped out in fits and stages of blankness. Her thoughts slowed, often going backwards to darkness and fear and the feel of Scout's lips on hers. She shifted to watch him sleep against her, full of an unknown gratitude that he hadn't fallen.

**.**

Bases pitted the landscape, from Egypt to Hong Kong and back to New Mexico. A few hours away there was another, newer and more high tech base. Nestled between mountains, it was far more difficult to launch a frontal assault at. More importantly, it wasn't made of such flammable material.

Engineer and some orderlies took over starting up the mainframe and power source. She went towards her office and flipped on the light.

Most of the other men had already turned in for what was left of the night. She stayed up, working out the last security passes. Her office was small and metallic, spare and adequate. Before she could relax, she checked for signs of intruders. A lack of decoration meant less places for hidden devices. She preferred it that way, with only her guns and necessities nearby.

When Miss Pauling was sure that the room was safe, she sat down and started at her task again.  
>She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening without her permission, or access code. Someone else had high enough classification to enter.<p>

She waited out the seconds, to see if it would be Administrator, assistant, or something else to come out of the shadows.

It was Spy who entered. She hadn't thought he'd had enough clearance to enter without requesting entry numbers, but he was always finding these little things. It was hard to keep anything hidden from him and his capricious nature. If he wasn't such so skilled at his job, she probably would've had to have fired him and buried his body in some cavern ages ago.

Though, she could say that about all the mercenaries, truth be told.

He was dressed like a civilian, in a darker, and far less expensive suit than she'd ever seen him in, but she'd gotten used to his costumes. He handed her the a small manilla folder with no explanation.

She squinted as she saw the poor photos taken in too dark places. A group of robots, yes, she'd seen this factory before. A close up on the serial numbers, green lettering...Nothing seemed out of order, until she saw the date.

_Twelve hours ago_. It would've only been hours after their coordinates had been changed. Fatigue, numbness and cold made the thoughts come slow. This base had been abandoned, wiped from most of the archives but the highest classification. Anyone on lower levels thought it nothing more than ruins, and certainly no place the group would take refuge in.

"This is..."

"They aren't what you're looking for. They're what you need, nonetheless. Have you figured it out yet, Miss Pauling?" Spy said.

"Yes, though I wish I'd read it wrong," she said.

"There's a traitor," Spy said.

His words hung in the air, like a death sentence. She looked up from the pictures, and looked at him anew. When had he changed, when had he gotten enough time to find this out? Asking would be useless. Even she didn't know his real identity, let alone how he managed to get his data.

She pushed back in her chair as she collected the papers.

"Thank you for your service. I'll add it to your billable hours by tomorrow," she said.

As she moved, she kept him in the corner of her eye. Best never to keep your back turned with a Spy nearby.

She couldn't trust him. She couldn't trust anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Trial By Fire (2)  
>Series: TF2<br>Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, Administrator, Saxton Hale,  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. With time running out, Gray Mann's armies quickly closing in and everyone a possible suspect, she tries to flush out the mole before everything is lost.  
>Author's note: The Patriarca family was a real crime syndicate.<p>

**.**

No robots had overtaken their mountain base yet, though the sentries and security systems were on high alert. Most of the men had already retired; even Spy had disappeared shortly after their talk, though that was nothing too unusual.

Scout was still up, pacing the length of the hallway. Medic must have gotten to his leg, as even though his pants were charred, he no longer limped.

"Did you need something?" she said.

With talk of traitors, perhaps he had found something as well. She glanced down the hall. She could hear the snoring through creaky, rusted-open doors. There'd been a water leak a few years back here, and though they'd fixed the roof and pipes, the doors had been forgotten in the hundreds of other bases which called away her attention.

She'd have to put that on the list of thousands of things to fix, along with possibly saving the world and keeping everyone alive...everyone who wasn't a traitor, that was.

"Come into my office," she said.

"Your—your office? I mean, aw yeah, your office, that'd be a great-"

"I wouldn't recommend you wake the others. They're cranky enough to splatter you across the ceiling, and we don't have a working Respawn right now," she said.

Scout made a choking noise. She started on without him back towards her office, and he rushed after her.

When he closed the door, he took a deep breath and seemed to be...counting off something on his fingers.

"Scout?" Miss Pauling said.

"Just give me a second," he said. He seemed to mentally rehearse something, complete with more hand gestures, like he was having a conversation with himself. She watched with one eyebrow raised. One thing she could say about him was that he was never boring.

He pulled off his hat, then thinking better of it, put it back on.

"Listen, I gotta say—I just gotta say this. It's like you're under my skin, you know? I just can't get over that, and that kiss–it meant somethin'. I can't stop thinkin' about you, and what it felt like when I thought I might lose you. It's been like this for a while, but now it's like the feeling is stronger. But you-"

She closed her eyes. To think, for a moment she'd thought it might be business related. Obviously she was too tired be rational. When had Scout ever focused on business? She couldn't focus on proximity, or anything beyond this new knowledge, this new treachery. If she left herself unguarded for a moment, it wouldn't just be her life in danger.

"This is hardly the time for that, Scout. The last base was destroyed, we barely escaped with our lives, and I can barely even think of allowing myself some time to sleep, let alone go on a _date_," she said. It came out more harshly than she intended to. "We aren't winning this war, no matter how hard we fight, and now there's possibility of data leaks—"

She hadn't intended to say the last part. Dammit, she needed sleep before she made anymore stupid mistakes. At twenty-eight hours without sleep, her control was slipping.

"Wait, what?" he said.

"No...Forget I said anything," she said. "I'm exhausted and not thinking clearly at all."

"Data leaks like spy stuff? But-It can't be one of the guys," Scout said. "Unless maybe, the Spy from the other team came back! He was always backstabbin' us-"

She hardly had time to explain the intricacies of what happened to the BLU team. Data splicing, and the deeper meaning of the Respawn machine were classified, and nothing he'd grasp.

"Your team's Spy was the one who informed me of the breach," Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah, we he could've been coverin' up his tracks, did you check to make sure he wasn't wearin' a mask? Wouldn't be the first time that rat bastard snuck in and pretended to be-" Scout said.

She had thought the same, though in different shades. Any of the men could be responsible for this leak. Even the ones who had come to her aid, or who had alerted her to the breaches.

"I can't rule anyone out," she said.

_There's no one I can trust_.

Scout thrust his thumb to his chest. "You ain't includin' me in this, right? You know I'd never betray you or let you down, right?"

She didn't respond immediately. She was very aware of the fact that he was a hired killer.

But he also was the least wily, and the most likely to show all his emotions, and blurt out every secret. He'd come back for her, stuck until his hands burned and he was chilled in the icy waters.

She relented, ever so much.

"… I assume you weren't involved in this particular piece. You're low on the list of people who would willingly or intentionally betray us. That doesn't mean you weren't used in the ploy, or manipulated into it, or—"

"I wasn't a part of this! Not a damn thing, I'd _never _ do it! You _know _ I'm not like that, right? I'd never hurt you like that, you're important to me and–"

"...I can't deal with relationships or love right now. I'm so tired that I can barely think straight and I shouldn't even be telling you this. If I was in better condition, I wouldn't have," she said.

He drew back like he'd been slapped. "That how it is? I guess I should've—"

A headache was forming at her temple. She rubbed at the ache, but the pounding didn't go away.

"No...I got this. You don't gotta feel alone anymore. You can trust me," Scout said, soft and far more restrained than his usual self. He looked sad and solemn, like he'd aged years right before her eyes.

"Scout—"

"No, listen...I can't say I'm sorry, because it'd be a lie. I ain't sorry for tellin' you all that. I ain't sorry for feelin' like this until it's like every other word that comes out of my mouth is how damn beautiful I find you, how wonderful you are, how much I care. But, now ain't the time for that, so I'll be your back up, 'cause it sure sounds like you need it," he said. "No flirtin', No...dates, or askin', or anythin'." There was little hint of his joking, carefree ways.

"I'll do whatever you need. I'll keep you safe, and when this is all over, I'll ask you again one last time, cause I fucked up again and asked at the wrong time. And if you say no that time, then I'll never ask you again. All right? Cross my heart."

He held out his hand, pinkie extended past the bloodied bandages of his burned hands. She thought Medic would've healed him, but it was possible he hadn't gone to the infirmary, for he was too busy rehearsing the words he'd say to her.

"Pinkie promise. Swear on my ma," he said.

Scout wasn't quite the ideal ally. He wasn't the strongest, most professional, and more than once his loquaciousness had gotten him in trouble with his superiors. He could be trusted to repeat anything to anyone within a ten mile radius in his bragging, especially if a girl was involved.

But he was all she had. And she had to take that chance.

She reached out and entwined her pinkie with his.

"Okay, where do we start?"

"We both get some sleep," she said. "I'll tell you in the morning."

"Oh yeah, sleep. I forgot about that. Good night, Miss Pauling," he said.

He paused at the door, and caught himself before he spoke. Catching whatever flirtation, or sweet words he had with her to a quiet resignation.

**.**

The first order was getting away from possible bugs, and to get supplies. He smiled big when she first told him to come with her, nearly tripping over his feet in his enthusiasm to get up from the communal couch. Before he fell, he remembered, and kept just far enough apart. No flirting comments, nothing but endless spiels about the weather.

He'd chatted on during the drive with forced levity. She nodded occasionally, but mostly let him talk. She waited until they were far from the base, where listening devices or someone cloaked could overhear. Parked in behind the bakery wasn't the worst place for a secret mission, she supposed. Supplies were getting more expensive in this region, which had been hit harder by the robot war. She'd authorized far worse dents to Mann co. than some Wonder bread and baloney.

"You goin' to tell me this mission, or leave me wonderin'? Cause I been thinkin' about it most of the night-when I wasn't passed out, that is," Scout said.

She rolled up both windows. Through her work, she'd learned how to subtly check for those out of the ordinary, or _too _ ordinary. She leaned in and kept her voice low.

"I was thinking of planting some false evidence, and see how Gray Mann reacts to it. Each one tested would get a different made up fact, which would supposedly bring us to our knees.

It wasn't foolproof, but she didn't have much to work with at this point. If she could narrow it down, well, it would be a start.

"Oh, sort of like when your friends keep bein' dense, and so you send flowers to both of them and say that the other sent it," Scout said. "Then findin' out that they think it's a prank and havin' it blow up in your face, and then you're chased by shotguns!"

"Not quite," she said.

"So, I gotta just—What, exactly?"

"Keep your ears open. Tell me everything that happens, even if seems inconsequential," she said.

Even if he wasn't suited for stealth missions, he had his many skills which could not only be helpful, but turn the tide of the war. He was quick, skilled in armed combat, and the men were prone to underestimating him, especially his intelligence.

"When I tell you, you'll start spreading rumors. Not to everyone, mind you. We'll pick a controlled test, and only pass one of the false data packages along. Then we'll narrow it down."

"Hard to believe any of the guys would be backstabbin' us," Scout said. He chewed on his lip.

"We've not narrowed it down to the men. It could be someone in upper management, one of the assistants, or someone else entirely," she said.

He looked relieved. He showed his feelings so clearly on his face, she still wondered how he'd manage to pull off a _stealth_ mission of all things. Then again, she could use that to her advantage. Everyone who knew him had underestimated him, even her.

"That doesn't mean they're cleared of suspicion yet," she said.

"Don't worry, I'll clear them. They wouldn't do anythin' like that. You don't know them like I do, but you'll see."

His belief could very well break whatever data she could glean.

"Promise you won't keep anything back. If you trust them, then you can hardly do your work exposing which person is betraying us-"

"No, wait, I-I'll do it," Scout said.

"You have to be serious and committed about it, Scout. No second-guessing because he's your teammate. No leaving out details because it'd make them look bad," she said.

"I choose you," Scout said.

"You can't call your mother until this is all over. You've never been good at keeping secrets from her, and I can't have you exposing all of this with one careless phone call," she said.

"Not even my ma?" He said, his voice breaking. She kept her gaze straight on the road in front of her. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her jaw set. She'd hurt people far more than this in her life. Wrecked families, left thousands of mothers who never saw their children come back home.

"It's only temporary," she said.

"But she'll worry. I ain't missed the check ins since I first got here, not a single day," he said.

The edges of her nails were cracked and broken. She could just see an edge of bloodstain from under the flaking purple nail polish.

"Don't worry; I'll call her and make up something. A power line failure that knocked out the service for miles. I'll make sure she doesn't have a reason to worry."

"'All right," he said. He didn't talk again, with a deeper sense of defeat than she'd even seen in him. Even losses, rejections didn't cut this deep. She was peeling away all his hope and love, boiling it from his bones until the marrow was pulled thick and through.

She'd lost all lingering traces of bonds and trust in one strike, when Spy's papers had hit her desk. His was slower, more painful. He trusted the most of the mercs, and all the people he shouldn't. He trusted Soldier even as he broke his arms and choked him, he trusted her when she could be ordered to kill him at any moment.

The desert passed by, blended as they went. She saw him changed in side glances she didn't want to see, that puckish smile erased to a thin, sour line. A furrow, new lines which showed the growing age his exuberance always belied.

"What next?" Scout said. His voice was flat, though he tried to fake it, to fake a smile. He never was very good at lying.

"I'll draw up a plan of attack. You'll sow misinformation, and we'll see how Gray Mann reacts. Who you speak to first is your choice."

He nodded. For a second, it seemed like he'd add some quip, but he thought better of it. The binds of his promise pulling him back.

She turned the radio on to a news station, but it was just for sound. Anything to fill the glaring silence, a sound more indicative of his anguish than any scream.

**.**

The hood of his van was up. Sniper was always tinkering away at his van, slow enough that it'd take all day. Just him, his tools and his beer. Scout kept him company sometimes, when he wasn't chasing after some girl, or running until his lungs felt about ready to burst. Spy never came to dirty greasy garages, though Engie would sometimes show up with just the tools Sniper needed without even being asked.

Sniper took another sip of coffee, and grimaced. "I have got to get that coffeemaker fixed," he said.

Scout was nursing his one beer, not just because there wasn't that much alcohol stockpiled- he got drunk faster than he would've liked, fast enough that Demoman had given him plenty of nicknames. Two-shot Tommy, among them.

"So, the girls in Australia, right? Is it true they bench press cars?" Scout said.

"Some of 'em," Sniper said.

Scout wrinkled his nose. "Man, I don't even know if that's hot, terrifying, or both at once."

Sniper snickered. "Not everyone can take an Australian girl."

"Hey, hey, I could take that. I could _take _ everythin' if I wanted," Scout said.

"Oh? Here I thought you were chasin' after Miss Pauling, guess you weren't serious after all," Sniper said.

"I'm serious as hell, but I got eyes. Anyways, she ain't ignorin' me, she's _busy_ . But she's totally seen me kick ass all over the games and seen me shirtless, so it's only a matter of time before she has free time. I mean, sure the last five years runnin' crap has happened so she missed it, but one of these days. Bam, free time."

"Mmm-hhhmm," Sniper said.

"She totally is!" Scout said again, more defensive. Sniper's attention was elsewhere, as he dug out a cigarette from his pack.

"So, anyways, what the hell is _up _ with these robots? I read one of those papers that fall out sometimes-"

"Mate, readin' papers around here will get you killed. Only the stupid bloody spies got enough nerve to try that." He stopped for a beat and sipped his beer. "And you, apparently."

"Hey, you know me, thrivin' on danger, livin' on the edge." Scout leaned back, his arms spread out. "So, these papers? I hear he's going to patent a _sex bot _,"

Sniper rolled his eyes. "You would read that paper, mate," he said.

"And behind that, I thought he said improved tanks, maybe with like lasers or somethin', " Scout said. "One with heat-seekin' missles or somethin' like. You heard about that."

Scout didn't quite know what he was looking for. Some kind of a twitch, a give that he'd caught the traitor, even if he didn't want to think about his teammates as possible traitors. But Sniper just took another long sip of beer.

"You got some imagination, mate, " Sniper said.

"Oh, and there's talk of them changin' the password. That 1111 shit? Way too easy to crack. In fact, it should be in by next Thursday, I think," Scout said.

"Good luck havin' Soldier remember anythin' else, he can barely remember that one," Sniper said carelessly. Scout couldn't take anything at face value anymore. He was living in Miss Pauling's world now, where all the mercenaries and orderlies were under constant scrutiny, and could be enemies at any moment.

"Take a drink, mate. You seem all wound up. You got pretty close to bein' a campfire smore back there," Sniper said.

Scout always knew he couldn't lie too well, he couldn't keep secrets. But he'd have to figure out a way to fake it until he could learn better. He'd faked things before. Evidence, confidence, even relationships, though that hadn't gone too well-his ma had seen right through it. Come to think of it, Spy probably ratted him out.

"I'll take one for the road. Miss Pauling asked me to deliver somethin' for her," Scout said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

"Maybe you'll catch her eye yet," Sniper said. He lifted his bottle to a non-existent toast. Glasses clinked, and for a fleeting moment, Scout wondered if there was something in there. He couldn't let Sniper see the distrust, so he quickly downed the beer. Too quickly, like a beginner, he choked and coughed.

"Right little hairless dandy you are," Sniper said. "Maybe one of these days you'll learn how to drink like a real man."

"Oh, fuck off," Scout said.

Sniper just laughed it off. He never took anything Scout said to heart. It was half their friendship, and half their fights-or at least Scout swearing at him while Sniper ignored him, if that could count for fighting.

The guy couldn't stand spies. Every damn day it was more shit about how spies smelled, spies sucked, and some more choice insults. He couldn't imagine Sniper ever being the one to betray them all.

But he couldn't let his personal feelings go too deep until he and Miss Pauling were out of this. It was like his skin had been shed, all his innocence left on the floor. He checked his gun to make sure it had enough ammo as he left. He could never be too sure when he might need it.

**.**

"Hey, Spy, wait up-"

Scout rushed through the metallic halls, just a few paces behind Spy. Even if he disappeared, Spy couldn't outrun him. Spy sighed in irritation and turned around. Lines marked what little of his face wasn't covered by his balaclava. Somehow, it seemed like he'd aged more, like the Respawn wasn't doing as well for him as it should.

Scout couldn't tell if it was just his paranoia. Now every offhand gesture or word from the guys was suspect.

"Go on, tell the entire team and five towns away your plans," Spy said.

"I wanted to catch you before you got away, and you didn't hear me the first time, even though I yelled pretty loud. Maybe you need a hearin' aid," Scout said.

"I was ignoring you. A hard concept for you to understand, I know, but not everyone wants to hear your constant diarrhea of the mouth." He flicked his cigarette ashes to the floor. Miss Pauling would have his hide if she ever caught Spy pulling something like that.

"Oh, because you got soo much better things to do than talk to me, huh?" Scout said. He instinctively started to reach back for his bat, and just barely stopped himself.

"You're hovering again," he said. He blew smoke right in Scout's face. It took everything within him not to tackle him right to the ground and show him how a boy from the projects did things, far away from Spy's fancy guns and skullduggery.

"Meet me outside, I got somethin' I wanna ask you in private," Scout said.

Spy looked him over, and turned away, like he'd been found wanting. Scout bristled, again just barely holding back the urge to smack him one on his smug face.

"Listen, I don't got a lot. They ain't payin' much right now with all this robot war shit goin' on, but I'll at least throw somethin' your way. I ain't goin' to ask for little favors, it'll be worth your while."

"I sincerely I doubt that," Spy said. Nobody did condescension like this guy. Even as he wanted to break his nose just to hear the satisfaction of his bones snapping, Scout had to admit that.

"Regardless, You have five minutes of my time, no more. Meet me at the bend in the tree," Spy said.

Then he disappeared. Poof, a shimmer, a cloud of smoke. Through it all, Scout was glad for two things: that he would get a run in, and that he wouldn't have to talk to Spy along the way. If he snapped, if he let it all out, this would be all over. All he had to do was keep his temper for a little longer.

Running always made things a little better. His heart rate would spike, everything would be a little more in line. He mentally reminded himself to put in another run after this. All he had to do was sow a few more seeds of information and report back. No matter what the mission entailed, Scout couldn't let himself get out of shape. He'd need every reflex, every burst of speed if he wanted to get them out of this.

The steepness provided another challenge. He smirked to himself as he climbed. If he couldn't punch the old man out, at least he'd leave Spy in his dust. The trees got thicker up here, mostly pine, as the base became little more than a speck in the distance. The clean, fresh air was a real luxury after the hellishness that was the remains of that base they'd just left. Ashes, dust and gravel. It was all Gray Mann's now.

Somehow, Spy was already waiting for him there. Smoking like he wanted to create some kind of forest fire. Scout wondered, not for the first time, if Spy knew how to teleport.

"Your clock starts now. Remember, I've killed people over less," he said.

"My ma, I'm real worried about her. I can't call home at all," Scout said.

Her trusted Miss Pauling, of course, but...

Once his ma had told him _if you need anythin', just go to him._ The man in red who had handed him that first pamphlet, the man without a name. He'd seen the guy five times before he came to Mann co, but the old geezer didn't even remember him.

He pulled out an envelope from his duffle bag. "If somethin' happens to me, give this to her. It ain't got nothin' incriminatin', just...I wanted to write a goodbye in case I, you know. Kicked it. Got pretty close last time, not sure if I can keep it up if Respawn keeps like this."

Spy held out a gloved hand. He took the envelope with a gesture cloaked as casual indifference. And yet, the he treated it with the utmost care.

"As soon as my paycheck comes, you can get it all, I don't care," Scout said.

"Don't insult me, you don't even take away enough to pay for one of my suits," Spy said.

Scout swallowed, words stuck on his tongue. Spy knew he sent most everything home, leaving himself just a little off the top to have some fun with. He shouldn't be surprised; Spy knew what everyone was doing.

"Okay then, who's the backstabber if you know so damn much?"

"She told _you_?" he said.

Scout clenched his fist at that. Like it'd be so damn surprising that she'd even pay him any mind, let alone trust him.

"Yeah, I'm her right hand man, and I'm goin' to beat down anyone who gets in her way. You got a problem with that?" Scout demanded.

"If you're going to work in stealth, you're going to have to curb your habit of running your mouth whenever possible."

"Go to hell, Spy," he said.

"In case you missed last night, we're already there," Spy said.

That shut him up. If the big guy and doc hadn't come any sooner, he'd have been little more than ashes and bones. Even everything Miss Pauling had tried wasn't enough to take down.

They needed to be sticking together more than anything now.

"That's it, just take care of that if it ever comes to puttin' what's left of me in a coffin'," Scout said.

"And if you die, she'll never recover," he said. "So don't throw your life away carelessly."

She never explained who he was. Hanging around their house like a guardian angel of death. When Andy had gotten too deep in debt with the Patriarca family, Spy had come in and saved them. The cops never even found the bodies, though anyone born in Southie knew the cops were no friends.

But Spy never talked about it, and always treated him like an annoying piece of shit. Drove him up the wall, and sometimes Scout thought that might be half of why he did it.

They surveyed each other suspicion and barely concealed anger. He could bash Spy's head in, probably push him down the mountain. He'd come out of Respawn mad as hell and ignore anything Scout ever asked again, so Scout left those urges to mere thoughts.

Scout was the one who broke the silence; he always was.

"Look, I never called in anythin' with you back then. Even if you like to pretend that you weren't there, you ain't an easy guy to forget. Not many fancypants French guys reekin' of cigarettes down in the projects. You might be a dirty backstabbin' rat, but you ain't goin' to do anythin' to get me too dead. I saw that night with Andy. You about looked like someone knifed you in the gut when she was cryin' at the table," Scout said.

Spy didn't respond immediately. It wasn't annoyance in his face, but something deeper, and harder to read.

"And surely you've told Miss Pauling about how harmless I am," Spy said.

"Nah, you ain't off that easy. I barely got her to listen to me. I start tryin' to say anyone is innocent and she'll say I ain't worth it and she don't need no help."

"You got a lead?" Scout asked.

"None," Spy said. "Whoever has infiltrated us is far beyond the skill level of anything we've ever seen."

"Great, just what I needed to hear," Scout said.

It wasn't exactly hope inspiring to hear from the best and most experienced of the whole lot.  
>He held out his hand to bum a cigarette. For a second, he wondered if he'd have to translate the gesture he thought universal, but Spy pulled out his case.<p>

Scout wasn't any good at smoking, but he just wanted a little comfort. The first hit left him gasping. He bent over, about hacking up his lungs. He felt the soft touch of Spy patting his back. For once, he wasn't insulting him. Looking up at this angle through a haze of smoke, he almost looked something like benevolent.

A trick of the smoke, Scout figured.

**.**

Scout had been feeding little bits of information for weeks now. She'd caught pieces of his lies, which only got better as he worked. She almost wondered if he'd been getting help; he had spent time off-camera with Spy, after all. His improv notes to the script sure were something, though it added to the disbelief, his veil of innocent ignorance which just might keep them both alive.

They had spent the next two weeks making repairs. She was waiting Gray Mann out. Surrounded by mountains, with only a narrow path for the robots to make their assault. When it happened, they would walk straight into the many stationary guns she'd been ordering Engineer to construct. Even with the possibility that he was a traitor, she had to still rely on some of them. They were the crux of the defense and offense, and all that was keeping Gray Mann from breaking down her doorstep.

This time she would be ready.

Though, she smiled a bit for the first time in hours. He'd gone busy, making up ideas of a flying car to Engineer, who had actually paid attention, then a secret hidden among fanciful ideas.

In Scout's defense, even though half his ideas were obviously cribbed from comic book plots, some of them were true. She might have even been suspicious, if he hadn't gone on for five minutes about Wonder Woman, and how if Miss Pauling herself ever donned a suit like that, the war would be as good as won.

The bait was set. All they could do was wait for Gray Mann to find them next. She looked over the wall of screens.

The left wing had a broken camera. She frowned at the screen as it faded into static. The screen righted itself. She made a mental note to have Engineer and several assistants check for rust in the computer mainframe.

She began to sift through the papers. Something had alerted their location. Mentally, she put it on the list to ask Scout's assistance to help her sift through the clothes of the other mercenaries. Perhaps they had been mistaken all along. It wasn't an inside effort, a traitor, but a listening device which had gotten into their things.

She had to consider every option.

Miss Pauling hadn't checked in with the Administrator for days. At first it had been the sheer lack of phone lines and reception, but now it was the growing paranoia and distrust of every shadow. Were the rooms bugged as well? Not even her devices could be trusted, let alone the majority of her coworkers.

She pushed the call button. Richard-the oldest of the assistants and orderlies. Nothing but static flickered over the call. She screen was a wave of gray. She pulled out her handgun, aware of every sound as she searched the room. She pushed the button again, this time to contact the mercenaries. A dead sound, a blip.

Miss Pauling kept her back to the wall as she moved through the winding tunnels. Only the hum of machinery greeted her as she entered the password into the main power supply room.

She noticed the trail of blood. Lying in front of the machinery was the one orderly who'd managed to survive living in Mann co and never got the destroy order. A Balisong protruded from his back, deep and twisted in a pool of blood. A sapper flickered at the top of a generator. She tore away the sapper, stomping it into the floor with her heels.

It wasn't completely destroyed. With some work, Engineer could fix it. Here was her traitor after all. For all Scout's work, he'd fallen right into his own hubris. Back to the wall, she held her gun at ready. But it wasn't close enough to keep her from being pushed forward, the knife driven deep into her back.

Miss Pauling fell across the floor. The last image that crossed her mind was the door opening, and a shriek of anguish calling her name.

**.**

When he heard the sound, he didn't go to warn the guys, he went straight for her. The hallways were lost to her name and the pounding of his pulse, his feet on the metal floor. But for all his speed, for all those years of forcing himself to be faster than anyone else, he wasn't fast enough. The control room was empty static. The papers out of order, her chair left out of place. His mind circled over and over, trying to figure out where she would've hidden. He'd passed by the communal room, and even her office, and hadn't seen the shadow of her there. Power, power, static...

_The power room_! He'd never been there himself, but if something had gone wrong, more often than not Miss Pauling would do the job herself. He charged through the desolate halls, like some B movie sci-fi nightmare of robots and machines. All he could think about was her as his heart beat, as each breath came faster in the run.

He came to an open door, far too high security to ever be left open, and a slick trail of oil and blood. For a second, she saw the glowing blue eyes of the Spy Robot standing above a girl in purple stained in red.

When the Spy disappeared, a cloud of smoke and robotic laughter, he pulled out his bat. A gun wasn't personal enough. He wouldn't get to feel bones breaking with a gun. He wouldn't get to wipe it down, the chunks of hair and blood, and the last savored memory of his kill.

The room had only one window, bolted tight. The door was behind him, close enough that the robot would have to push him out of the way.

"Come on out, you son of a bitch," he said.

He swung in the air, the sound of air and force doing nothing to lessen the tight knot inside his chest. A crunch of metal, a broken shield, smoke rising. He hit the robot hard enough to slam it against the wall, but that wasn't enough. He kneed the chest of it, metal crunch and the own sickening pain to remind him that he was still alive when he shouldn't be. He lost himself in each hit, until there was a little less thoughts and a little less of the long held back scream. He only stopped when the Spy robot was a mass of twisted sparking metal. It offered no release, no comfort. Even with her avenged, it didn't make any difference.

He felt for a pulse at her neck, but felt nothing. Her skin was still warm. His fingers were caked in her blood. Her blood. The screaming feeling, the knot of everything that was so wrong returned full force. What semblance of calm he'd gained from his violence was torn away, like a reopened scar. Newly healed flesh ripped away and raw to the air.

"Miss Pauling," he gasped. "_Miss Pauling!"_

He pulled her into his arms, struggling with the slick feeling of her blood _her blood _ on his hands.

"Come on, you can't be...no, no. I—I could get doc. He'll make this all right," he said. "Just hold on until then, Miss Pauling, I'll make this right-"

Blood on his hands. He choked back words and _I love yous_ and so much begging. _Don't go, don't go, no not you, not Miss Pauling, anyone but her, please stay, please come back-_

Scout pushed the door open with his hip. The wires were cut and sparking, the electronic lock turned dark. He rushed through the hallways. His cries for help echoed, but no response came. The lights had gone off in this part, wires hung cut from the ceiling. Several of the ceiling tiles were fallen and broken on the floor, with spots of oil like fingerprints dripping from above.

He made it to the infirmary, only to find it empty, save for birds. Nestled above, they considered him, cooing and tilting their heads. One of them had edges of red to its feathers, and a beak stained with blood.

Where the hell _was _ the Doc?

Scout craned his neck. "This really ain't a time for playin' hide and seek, Doc!"

He quickly pushed open the doors to the back, where Medic kept all his secret needles and creepy doctor stuff. Other than some organs in jars and a whole bunch of birds, there was nothing.

In his haste, he knocked over several of the metal sharp things, glass breaking across the floor. She looked even worse in the brighter light of the operating table.

"Listen, I'll—I'll be right back. I'll get him, and it'll be okay—I promise."

Because he couldn't fathom a world she wasn't in. He couldn't even thin that she couldn't be saved. The world without her was a dark room, a nothingness until there was only the screaming in his head, a swirling unending chaos.

His voice had gone hoarse from yelling, but he kept calling. He couldn't imagine a world which she wasn't in. He'd probably he'd watch her back. He'd _promised_.

Scout all but body slammed through the doors of what amounted to a living room. Thankfully, there wasn't a lot of furniture here, or he would've crashed face-first into something. As it was, he barely caught his fall.

"Doc, doc! Doc, _please_, you gotta—you gotta do somethin'! She can't be—"

The TV was busted with bullet holes through the screen, though none of the men would admit it. Heavy sat in the big armchair, reading some book Scout couldn't read the title of.

Medic looked up from his cards. A Victrola played on the floor beside him. Several empty beer bottles littered the ground, with several crates of Scrumpy piled up behind them. All this had been happening, and the alarm hadn't even rung, nobody had even known.

"Doc," Scout said, his voice choked. "Please, you gotta fix her."

Medic pushed aside his cards, and rose. "I'll see what I can do. Continue without me," Medic said.

But Demoman and Soldier had pushed their cards aside as well. Heavy joined them, his reading glasses fallen down low on his nose.

"We have attack?" Heavy said. His low growl of a voice matched the keening song of a woman singing about her lover dying on a gloomy Sunday.

"I don't know, I don't know, I just—"

Medic touched Scout's shoulder. "Calm yourself. The rest of you, check the perimeter."

A grim silence had fallen, with only the woman's death song to break the quiet. He should've thought of that, he should've taken charge. Should've, should've, should've. If he'd been there, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. He shouldn't have left her side.

Scout shifted from foot to foot as he watched Medic begin his examination. Medic felt her pulse, letting his hands linger there for a moment, before shaking his head.

"But, doc, you got all that healing gun and stuff. You-you gotta be able to fix her. _You gotta._"

"I'm afraid I never made the proper altercations. Her body would never survive the Medigun. Once the force of the beam hit her, it would burst her heart."

The intense break, the all-consuming sadness came over him again. Like a dark weight dragging him down into the depths. He'd gone through a lot of life. Seen his friends and family come back from the war in caskets.

"What, you're sayin' she's...she's really gone? It can't, she can't-"

"I'm afraid so," Medic said. He took off his glasses to clean the blood from them. Scout looked at him and wondered _was he the lyin' cheat?_"

And now he knew more than ever that she was right, it was one of them. There was no damn way a robot could've slipped past if it hadn't had inside info. It cut deep, long past the skin. They'd failed, _he'd_ failed. He'd promised to keep her safe, to find out whoever was behind this, and he was no closer now than before. If she knew, she hadn't told him. Probably hadn't even trusted him.

He'd told Miss Pauling he chose her, but he'd let her down. Somehow he'd missed something, been so fucking stupid that he'd let their plans show enough.

In this room someone was a traitor. One of them had sold out _Miss Pauling_, though the mere thought boggled. How could anyone want to hurt her?

Scout gripped white knuckle tight, until his nails dug into his skin. His fist shook as the swirling chaos in his mind took over, like static loud that he forgot the sound of her voice and everything but that last moment, her body broken and bloodied, left to rot by Gray Mann's minions.

Medic closed her eyes with his thumb. A sheet was laid over his arm, stained with other people's blood, mostly the people he'd failed. Patients he'd fucked off, people he'd experimented on. He pushed forward, pushed Medic away from her. He hit hard enough to almost make him lose his balance. Doves flew up, startled. Medic reached out, just barely steadying himself on the infirmary light.

He pulled her to his chest, shielded her from everyone who would give up on her, toss her aside. Her skin was still warm. If he listened, he could almost imagine that she breathed and it wasn't just an echo of his own breath.

"She ain't your damn Medical waste, you ain't goin' to go dump her in a friggin' ditch like she's nothin' more than your-your experiments!"

He hadn't noticed that the rest of the mercenaries were in there behind him. But as he whirled, all he saw was potential killers. Any one of them could've ratted her out. They looked grotesque, bloodied and spattered with oil from fighting the robots.

"One of you did this, and I'm goin' to make you frickin' pay!" He held one bloodied fist up, and jerked his gaze from each mercenary. "I'll start bashin' heads in until _somebody_ talks—"

"It was a robot, you said so yourself," Engineer said. "There was nothin' we could do."

"No! She knew one of you was betrayin' her. One of you is a filthy liar, and I'm goin' to make it up to her. I-I couldn't protect her like I promised, but I won't let her work go undone—" His voice cracked as the secret came out. He didn't even care anymore.

"Boy, you can barely stand—"

"Don't frickin' care. I–I'll do it. I'll do it right after I...take care of this. I'll bury her. Any of you dare follow me, and I'll smash your head in—"

"You are not only one who will mourn her," Heavy said.

He turned slow, then struck quick, fast enough that Heavy barely saw the hit connect. He had to reach up on tiptoe to try and grab his collar, but the asshole's damn gut and thickness got in the way.

"What did you say? _What did you say, you son of a bitch? _ I'll beat your face right in, I swear to—"

Engineer stepped between them. Punches were held back, just barely. Scout was tense, ready to snap at anyone, anything.

"Settle down, now," Engineer said. "We all respected her. Some of us saw her as close as kin."

"I _love _ her! Loved..."

His voice already felt hoarse from the screaming, but he couldn't stop. He welcomed the ache; it'd just bring him a little closer to her. He couldn't bear the past tense, even as she hung limp in his arms. He had barely gotten to hold her in life. Had gotten that one kiss on the edge of death.

He turned, rage falling back to sadness. He buried his face into his sleeve as the first sob came. He couldn't stop them as the first scream came, rage and sadness burning through him. He could still smell her perfume. Her skin was still faintly warm, but she wasn't breathing and she wasn't ever going to wake up and tell him to settle down or look at him or smile ever again.

He felt a hand against his back, but he shrugged it off. He clung tighter to her body, and shielded her from the world.

"Let him go," Spy said.

He looked back and saw only solemn regret in Spy's face. The other men had blurred past the tears he couldn't quite keep at bay.

"Spy, she-She's..." He couldn't complete the sentence, couldn't allow himself to think of her as gone, even as he made plans to bury her.

"I know," Spy said.

"I-I couldn't," He choked out. "I couldn't do anythin' at all."

Spy didn't reply. There was nothing to be said. He'd failed, and that's all there was.

"Listen, Spy, don't forget our deal," Scout said. He didn't look back.

"Don't be foolish, just because-"

"And you wouldn't do the same? Don't you fuckin' lie to me, I saw you that day. I may not know who the hell you are, or who you are to her, but don't you dare act like you wouldn't do the same damn thing."

"And her tears mean nothing to you?" Spy said.

His breath caught in his throat. His ribs felt like they were being pulled apart. His whole body torn apart at the seams. He didn't reply, just kept on walking through the halls. No one called out after him. The gates closed behind him. The weight in his chest was so heavy, he hardly noticed the weight of her lifeless body up the incline.

"I'm goin' to avenge you," he said, though his voice was shaking. "Not just that Robot Spy, but Gray Mann, and every other robot. I'll kill whatever fucker turned on us–he won't stand a damn chance. I-I promise that to you, Miss P." His vision blurred and he didn't see the men around him, or her body. He wished his feelings could go like that. Into nothingness until the steady tearing inside him would quit.

He'd held her to his chest and just rocked out there in the heat. The dirt stuck to his blood-slick hands. He brushed her cheek and wished for warmth, for her to wake up and tell him everything was all right.

No pulse, no breath, nothing.

He couldn't lie to himself forever. Only when he felt faint from the heat did he force himself to let her go and start digging. He'd scraped at the hardscrabble rocky dirt until his hands had blistered and bled, until his blood mixed with hers.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Trial By Fire (3)  
>Series: TF2<br>Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, Administrator, Saxton Hale,  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. With time running out, Gray Mann's armies quickly closing in and everyone a possible suspect, she tries to flush out the mole before everything is lost.  
>Author's note:<p>

**.**

It was so cold. Colder than anything she'd ever felt, chilling down to her bones. She curled into a fetal position through the dark as a single light cut through the room. She closed her eyes tighter, pushing out the light. There was a throbbing in her head, her bones. Everything turned on edge as she tried to push herself up.

It was like breaking water, that first breath. She tried to open her eyes and only saw bubbles of light across a white room. Everything was so bright, she dipped in nausea until her head was between her knees.

A rapid heart rate, an undefinable sense of wrongness as she tried to move.

She still felt unsteady as she leaned on the wall for support. A white room, rusted and with a broken metal cabinet. The door swung from one hinge. It'd seen better days.

She recognized it slowly, a place she'd seen millions of times, but rarely been in herself. A Respawn room, not particularly different from the thousands of others scattered around the bases. She'd inspected them through bases, and seen them on surveillance many a time, had even overseen repairs a few times. She fell to her knees, hands against the tiled floor. She was still shuddering, but _alive_. She turned her hand over and studied it, checking over her skin for evidence of falseness. Had she lost herself in the transition? She'd taken for granted what kind of hell they had to go through daily.

But this left another question: _who had put her into Respawn?_

Most of the men were struck out from the possible list entirely. Scout could barely work the air conditioner in his room, let alone large-scale equipment. Medic only concerned himself with his own inventions; any healing of his teammates was a byproduct of his own morbid curiosity. Engineer, Bidwell, other orderlies, and the higher ranks were the only ones who could've done the deed.

But none of them would've done it without a nod from higher up. The Administrator kept a strict, tight grip on the Respawn system, and she never was one to waste resources. She couldn't put her faith in mistakes or accidents any longer, not when any incongruity could lead her to the person behind it all.

"One step, you can do this," she said.

She pushed herself up again, with a new sense of nausea. How the men did this on a regular basis, she couldn't imagine. Give her a box full of heads to remove the teeth from rather than another second in this room.

She shut her eyes tight as she kept stepping. Her legs were as shaky as a newborn fawn, but she'd get her strength back soon. She'd seen the men go through the issues, seen them accustom to something she'd never dreamed was that traumatic and monstrous.

But it was life, _her_ life and she wasn't going to waste another moment. The entire base could've collapsed without her, and Scout-

Oh, she had to hurry.

She went through the empty halls. The metal floor was cold against her bare feet. She leaned against the decimated walls for balance as she walked. Some of the computers were sparking, with bullet holes shot through and broken pieces. Even if Gray Mann hadn't captured another of their bases, the costs in revamping this one made it a loss nonetheless. At this rate, it'd have to be abandoned, just like the last.

Each room she went through was empty. Some ransacked, others littered with the twisted remains of broken robots. She reached for the gun at her thigh, only to find it gone.

"I've really got to update my Respawn data to have shoes," she muttered under her breath.

She finally found the men, or at least most of them at the front. Engineer was rebuilding the defenses, and trying to salvage what he could of the computer system. Heavy was clearing away more rubble, lifting huge beams as if they weighed little more than toothpicks, while Medic attended to the wounds on Soldier and Pyro. Demoman and Sniper brought out a table from the inside, and set it down next to the rescued schematics from Engineer's workshop.

Scout was nowhere in sight.

For a moment, she had a worry. He was the most vulnerable of the men. If he hadn't come back, then he might not-But, no. She'd just come from Respawn, unless his Respawn data was compromised.

Pyro let out a muffled cry, and pointed. One by one, the men turned to her. Eight men gaped as lost seconds passed. The cigarette fell from Spy's mouth. Engineer took off his helmet, with a mutter of _Good Lord..._

"You should've warned me about what a ride Respawn is," she said. She tried to smile, a faint attempt at humor, but it didn't reach her eyes, and the joke fell flat.

Engineer rubbed his bald head. "We thought you were a goner."

There were several muffled grunts of agreement. Heavy was wiping away tears, while Sniper pulled his hat down low over his face. Pyro had tilted his head in puppy-like enthusiasm.

"Where's Scout?" she said.

"Burying you," Spy said.

She kept her expression as even as she could. She'd buried thousands of bodies over the years, but never her own. As for him, she had nothing to worry this second. Spy was too professional to attack her here in front of everyone. All she had to do was find enough to expose him. But first, she had to find Scout, and make sure she wasn't followed out.

"Scout would not let us help. Said he would 'break our face' if we tried," Heavy said. His jaw set, in his own stoic grief. Medic patted him on the shoulder, leaving a trail of smeared blood on his sleeve.

"He was about ready to introduce a few of us to his fist already," Engineer said. "About took Heavy on. None of us are goin' near, he already threatened to off us all, sayin' we were turncoats."

As she thought, everything had fallen to pieces without her guidance. In a way too mechanical to be anything but manufactured chaos. All she could do was put together the pieces again.

"Oh... I'll go get him," she said. "Don't take to mind what he says, he was just very...emotional."

"Can't say I would've done any different. If I thought you all were turncoats, I'd dig the graves without a second thought," Sniper said. He flicked his cigarette and crushed it into the ground.

"Good to know ye just a bloody traitor, ye can get into someone else's Scrumpy stash from now on," Demoman said.

"Now that's just cruel," Engineer said, though she couldn't tell if it was about the killing, or the alcohol.

"Everyone calm down, I—we'll fix this," she said.

When the men looked at her, it wasn't with the sense of trust she'd once seen. Clouded over distance as each of them moved a little further apart.

Her head start of their ignorance had been torn away. Now each action would have to be taken with even more care. They were hired killers at heart, and never more dangerous when cornered.

**.**

She found him hunched over deep in the woods. Blood spattered to his shirt, both his and the body he'd carried. The body which had once been hers, and now was just a broken husk. She thought she'd seen him broken at the start of their promise, but it was nothing compared to how he looked now. She'd seen him in states of gory death when he looked more alive than this.

Worn, wrung out, nothingness. He clutched to his shovel like a lifeline.

"Scout?" she said.

He dropped his shovel, clattering into the shallow hole. Scout gaped at her, before rubbing his eyes with his bloody hands.

"I did it...I lost my mind, didn't I? I'm goin' to turn around and see you and it's goin' to be just a desert thing. Whatcha call them? Mirage. I'm goin' to turn around and you ain't goin' to be there. And now for the rest of my life, I'm goin' to see you in other girls and reflections...at least my life will be short, I just gotta tell ma I ain't comin' back."

He turned, a tragic mix of hope and sadness in his face. "Miss Pauling? I–You're—you're over there, I'm buryin' you—You really are a mirage, ain't you?"

"Someone put me in Respawn," she said

"Oh, _Miss Pauling_," he said. His shovel clattered to the ground, forgotten as he came closer. Unsteady, halting and full of trepidation, then quick. He pushed her hair back with his bloodstained hands, marveling over the angles of her face, the feel of her hair, her.

All at once he pulled her into his arms. He kept petting her hair, desperate and calming. The stench of sweat, blood and oil was thick, but she didn't care as he held her closer. His chin resting against her head.

His voice choked. "You're alive. God, I'm so glad. So damn glad."

"I didn't realize it'd be so hard," she said. Her voice was low, a tiny secret of weakness.

"First time I went through Respawn I bawled like a frickin' baby. I couldn't even go back onto the field for ages, because I was about ready to hurl. Plus, I'd pissed myself on the way back. And Snipes hadn't gotten his Jarate yet, so I couldn't have passed it off as anythin' but me bein' a frickin' baby."

"Geez, I can't stop touchin' you, and I don't want to dirty you up," he said.

Too late, he'd left traces of the blood on her face, and oil smudge with his thumb across her cheek.

"I broke all the promises I made, I'm sorry," he said. He started to pull away, but she clung tight to his arm.

"Don't stop," she said.

"I couldn't if I wanted to," he said.

"If you stay in the sun like this, you'll get heatstroke," he said. He shielded her from the brightness, his body leaned protectively against hers.

"You're the one who's been out here so long," she said.

"Dunno how long I've been out here...buryin' you," he said.

He'd chosen a place beneath a large rock outcropping, like a nature-made headstone for her. The ground was unrelenting and rocky, thicker than soup in the hard-packed wilderness. She'd have to teach him more about grave digging later.

"Why don't I help you with that burial?" she said.

He stayed quiet for a second, the mere words _burial _ mixed with her made him shudder.

"Don't you go dyin' again, I won't survive a second time. Barely survived this time," he said.

He slipped his arm about her, diving close until his face was buried against her, breathing her in.

"I promise to the best of my ability. I didn't exactly plan to get stabbed in the back," she said.

"Sorry for lettin' you down," he said. "But I promise, it ain't goin' to happen again. Don't matter how many times I die in the process, I won't let anyone else touch you."

"You never let me down. You couldn't have known that something in the system had failed-I didn't even know until it was too late," she said.

"When I heard somethin', I came runnin'. I was seconds too late, just soon enough to see you... I killed that rustbucket, though. And I'm goin' to kill whoever turned on you. Can't wait to feel their skull crackin' in two. Goin' to make that death Islow/i," he said.

"I'll help," she said.

"Cut 'em apart at the seams while they're still alive?" Scout

"Then salt the wounds."Maybe add some vinegar? Ants seem too much work and waiting, though finding some dogs to help with the 'clean up' would be nice, though I'd have to be careful and not go too far and kill them too soon," she said.

"Sheesh, you're one cruel girl. I like it," Scout said with utter fondness in his voice.

She smiled. "I try, though some of you mercenaries beat me out. I can't help it; I'm too efficient at heart."

She bent to pick up his shovel, and scraped it across the hard ground. "I thought the system was stronger. He must've messed with one of the generators to lure me out..."

"System wasn't all the way down down, it was only the control room which got hit. Nobody got through the gates, that robot came through the ceilin'," Scout said.

Miss Pauling knew that she'd been lured out, but she didn't know the extent, or how ruthless Gray Mann had been. To think that he would even sacrifice his chance at more data and bases under his command to go straight for her her.

"The _ceiling_?" Miss Pauling said.

In every base there were several complicated tunnels of escape. A few of the assistants could have accessed some of the lower level entry ones, but the more complicated ones were so classified that very few ever knew about them and lived to tell.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah, there were wires all cut up there, bits of oil and stuff. Nothin' else could've made it, and all the guys decimated the robots that attacked the front."

She'd spent all this time trying to eliminate the mercenaries that she hadn't even gotten a chance to check into any of the higher level orderlies who hadn't been killed off yet, or any of the silent partners.

She leaned on the shovel.

It'd been expertly plotted out. A distraction to lure her in, a distraction to keep the mercenaries away, and a secret tunnel that no one but a very few ever knew about. She was getting closer, but to what, she couldn't say. A sense of impending dread came inside her.

She couldn't report to the Administrator, not like this. Perhaps she could sneak a letter in, warning he that someone close to her might be threatening her life. No, even that might be intercepted. She could only trust that anyone willing to threaten the Administrator wouldn't live long enough to regret their decision. Not even Gray Mann.

"We've got our work cut out for us. I'm going to need you around more than ever," she said.

"You say that like you could get rid of me," Scout said.

He brought out a smile in her; a singular talent of his. A play of words, a ridiculous statement, and she'd find the troubles of the day momentarily forgotten. Her own personal slice of happiness.

"I'm glad I can count on you. Really, this seems otherwise, I can barely put into words-"

"Don't worry about it, I got more than enough words to make up for it," he said. He touched her cheek and looked at her like no one else even compared. She just rested her head against his hand. Them together, the remains of her hesitance buried between them.

**.**

The reconstruction only lasted long enough to close up the broken barriers, the damaged system. She sunk into bed hours later, more exhausted than she could remember. She hadn't even bothered to change, just kicked off her shoes and fell into stiff sheets. She'd spent her time on changing the password to her room door, and bolting up the vents.

If a fire came, she would be locked in a furnace of her very own making. But after her stint in Respawn, she was willing to take the chance.

She heard the scuffling when she had almost fallen asleep. She jerked up, and reached through the dark for her gun. It continued, something just outside of her door. Had the security been breached again? It hadn't been enough to put her through Respawn once; Gray Mann had found out, and was out to kill her again.

She yanked open the door, a gun pointed straight to the intruder's heart. Scout's eyes widened, and he waved his hands in front of his chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don't shoot—"

She lowered the gun. "Scout? What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't bein' a perv!" Scout protested, waving his hands over his chest in frantic motion. "I woke up from this nightmare, and I couldn't tell what was real. Did I dream you dyin', or was the part of you bein' alive a dream? So, I just wanted to make sure. 'Course you would've put the security up—that's good—but I just wanted to see for myself that you were still there. I just...couldn't take it."

"Come in," she said.

The door closed behind him. Instead of his usual bravado, he shifted from foot to foot in an awkward manner. He wasn't even looking at her—she remembered how dischelved her clothes were, revealing the low-cut mauve slip with an edge of lace she hadn't quite gotten out of yet.

"I'm out of pills," she said.

"Oh, I already took some aspirin, I don't need any, but thanks," he said.

"_Birth control pills,_" she said.

"Whoa now, I ain't breakin' my promise," he said.

"I told you, you can drop the promise," Miss Pauling said.

"Then, I can speak? I can really speak?" His smiled returned like the sun coming out after a long winter. His gaze lingered on her lips a minute, drinking her in. But when he spoke, it was not to her face, but to the wall.

He spoke haltingly, more like he was practicing in the mirror for what to say, not speaking to her.

"—Listen, I love you more than anythin', and when you were gone—I–I didn't even know what to do. No matter what, I can't get over you and I just keep _lovin'_ you more, until it feels like I'm goin' to burst. And—aw, fuck, I had more of this, but I—It keeps gettin' lost. This sounds like some dumb soap opera shit, but this, this is all the most real thing I've ever felt for anybody, and it ain't goin' to get like this for anyone else. I just know it. I just-this getting' through? This makin' any sense?"

"You aren't even looking at me," she said.

"It's hard– real hard– but I promised, and I don't back down on my promises," he said. "I've already gone this far, though."

Deep underwater with the world in flames above them, she'd felt a calmness and stability as the bubbles floated up between their mouths. With death and betrayal around every corner, she craved that feeling of comfort, of sureness in the midst of chaos more than ever.

She stood up on tiptoe, her hand cupping the back of his neck. "Scout, look at me."

He didn't so much gaze at her as drink her in, looking at her with a kind of tenderness and feeling that she hadn't thought him capable of. He reached out to stroke her cheek, but pulled back a second later, as if he'd felt a jolt.

"I want to woo you right off your feet. I want to romance you so much that you'll never be able to see a movie without goin' 'that ain't anythin' compared to him.' I-I'm goin' to do it all! Win you all the stuffed bears and take you dancin' all the time!"

"Once the war is over, take me somewhere nice," she said. "I'll make enough time, just take me out anywhere."

"Not anywhere. Only the best for you," he said.

"It could be the greasiest burger joint around and I'd still be happy if you were the one taking me, " she said.

He kissed her then, sudden enough to make her feel a jolt, to freeze a moment until she found herself in his arms. Shifted to fit without displacing her glasses, stood on tiptoe to better reach.

He broke away from the kiss and touched her cheek

"I wanted to do that for years and years and years! God, I can't believe that just happened! You know what I thought when I saw you?"

"Let me guess," Miss Pauling said. She mimicked a wolf whistle. "That?"

"Well, _yeah_. But one of the first things I noticed when I saw you here, was that you were nervous too. And I didn't feel so alone. When I first came to the battlefield, I thought I could handle it. But it was different. In Southie, sure you could get killed, but I always knew my brothers were there to back me up. I thought it was the same with the guys, but...The first time I got in a bar fight, Sniper went off and said I was being a wanker and deserved it and that I was off on my own. 'course, he'd have my back later on–he was just pissed at me for stealin' his drink– but it was a rough awakenin'. I was just tied up in knots back then, so I yelled louder and told myself I was awesome, and I became awesome. Awesomer. But then, you got better. And I thought I had to catch up. Truth is—promise you won't tell anyone?"

"I'm the best secret keeper around, even better than Spy. I'll take whatever you tell me to my grave," she said.

"Jeez, don't even say that, I dug one for you not even a day ago," Scout said.

"Sorry," she said.

"I was always the youngest and littlest. Half the time when the Dempsey boys went out, I wouldn't even get to throw a punch before it was all over. So, I decided I was goin' to be a superhero when I grew up. I started runnin', maybe fixin' to find some magic space ring or get big by a radioactive spider along the way, but I was going to be fast," he said. He chewed on his lip before continuing.

"I almost made it to college, what with the way I was workin' runnin' track, but I ended up gettin' expelled. I never gave up, and then you came and broke me out of there, and I never forgot how you looked that day. Like...a purple angel, yeah."

"I was just doing my job," Miss Pauling said.

"It meant everythin' to me," he said

"So, if you were so in love with me, then why would you chase after every girl in a fifty mile radius?"

"Babe, I'm a guy. It was over five years. What, was I supposed to be a monk, even though you wouldn't even give me the time of day? Sure, I wanted to end up with you, but I had to be practical," Scout said. He shrugged, steeped in innocence and boyish charm.

"I was too busy to give you the time of day, considering you'd take five hours to ask me it," she said.

"All right, all right, I got it...I ain't goin' after nobody else. Ever. Honest. It's a promise I'm goin' to keep for the rest of my life," he said.

"You said there weren't any pills and-"

"I'm sure we can find something to do with ourselves," she said. She tugged on his shirt, tugged him down low enough to kiss him hard enough to silence any of his worries and nervousness in the soft, urgent rhythm of her body.

**.**

The first light of morning coming through the rusty slats of the window. She stretched, her mind still coming into focus. His arm was slung across her waist, and she curled up closer to him. It was the first time in weeks that she'd woken up without feeling a sense of panic cutting through any moment's comfort sleep would allow.

The lock had held, no fires had come. They'd survived another day.

Even as she didn't have time, even as the mystery lay on, she had been so tired. He shifted behind her, and tightened his grip around her waist.

"With what a restless sleeper you always are, I figured I'd wake up to you kicking me," she said.

Scout yawned, and buried his face in her hair. "Don't sleep good alone."

"Ah, of course, you never want to sleep alone, I should've gathered that from all your skirtchasing," she said.

"Naah, I mean, I grew up in a small place. We didn't have room for separate rooms or anythin', not with so many of us. Got used to the sound of my brothers breathin' and snorin'. It meant everyone was alive and safe. Demo's the only one who let's me stay in his room when he's drunk enough. All I gotta do is say he vomited on my bed, and he always believes me."

"Probably think I'm a total wuss, but it ain't like that all. I'll fight a bear, I don't care, but I got fussy sleepin' habits, it ain't nothin' to do with toughness," he said.

"I'll keep your secrets, don't worry," she said with her own secret smile. A little glimmer of happiness through the dark he always managed to find for her.

He shifted, until he was resting on top of her. Forehead to forehead, his hands gently brushing through her tangled hair. When his lips met her, she sunk deep into the kiss until no problems could break her from the little bubble of this world, their bed, their lips. Nothing broke her from this soft, this calm, not even the war, or morning breath.

"You're alive, you're really still alive," he said in wonder. He rested his head against her chest, close enough to hear her heartbeat, and hear it quicken as he he traced down her hips.

"I didn't die in the night this time. ...Did you have a nightmare?" she said.

"No, but I had to be sure again. Cause I keep feelin' like I might wake up," he said.

She felt up his back, lean muscle and many scars of the years. Most of her pajamas were still on from last night, though his clothes had landed on the floor, under the bed, and somehow, the ceiling fan.

He broke the kiss just to take her in, a glance to reassure himself, thumb under her cheek. Nobody had ever looked at her like that, with such love and adoration.

For just a second longer, she entwined her fingers with his.

"We're going to have to get up soon," she said.

His response was a low sigh, then a _yeah_ muttered under his breath. From surveillance and experience, she knew he definitely wasn't a morning person. In fact, this was the happiest she'd ever seen him this early. Apparently she made all the difference.

"When this is all over, I'm going to get some free time, even if I have to take over Australia to do so."

He laughed. "I bet you would, just walk right in there and overthrow everythin'."

"I hope you've got plenty of date plans, because I'm taking you up on your offer," she said.

"Do I! I...ain't got reservations. When I get my next paycheck, I'm takin' you on six years worth of dates."

"Hopefully not all in one day," she said, barely able to keep herself from laughing.

"Just you try me, I will date like _the wind_," he said.

This time she couldn't hold back her laughter. He kissed the crook of her neck, rolling off her only to kiss further down her neck, until he'd pulled her shirt down enough to suck at the hollow of her throat. She was pretty sure he'd left some marks on her in very visible places.

"I've got a suggestion: warm bed."

"You make a pretty good argument, but I've got one for you: showering and breakfast," she said.

"Hrmmm. They got appeal, I gotta admit, but warm covers are winnin'," Scout said.

"I never said I'd be showering alone," she said.

"Thought you said it was too small?" he said.

"Let's just say I'm flexible enough and willing to make it work," she said.

"Okay, you win," he said.

She stretched, and stepped down to the cold floor. In a second she'd pulled her feet back up into bed. She'd need a few more seconds before she could take metal floors on bare feet.

"By the way, my name is Sophia," she said.

"Sophia... Sophie, I like that," Scout said. He sounded her name out for a long time, like he didn't want to stop saying it, like it was sweet on his tongue.

"But don't call me it around anyone else. Understood? I don't just share my civilian identity with anyone around here," she said.

"Just for me?" Scout said eagerly.

"Well, you're the only mercenary I told, though I wouldn't be surprised if Spy knows. He has a habit of getting into information even when I try and keep him out."

He burst into a big smile and kissed her cheek before he got out of bed. Before she knew it, he was lifting her up and carrying her towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Bein' with me means you never gotta have cold feet," he said.

"In both senses of the phrase?" she said.

"God, I hope so," Scout said.

He was all too happy to help her out of what was left of her clothes, the few he hadn't gotten to last night. She was the first one in the tiny stall.

She slicked her hair back in the lukewarm spray. The shower head was clogged with rust, enough to make the water sputter out. In the seconds that past, no regrets came, no indecision. She thought through every move like she was planning a job, but in softer tones.

The mirror was fogged up. She rung the wet out of her hair, leaving it damp and sticking to her skin. When he kissed her neck, his hands rough against her back, she knew everything she'd been missing throughout the years. A tiny ghost of loneliness hidden between long hours and the distrust that went with the job had finally been exorcised.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Trial By Fire (4)  
>Series: TF2<br>Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, Administrator, Saxton Hale,  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. With time running out, Gray Mann's armies quickly closing in and everyone a possible suspect, she tries to flush out the mole before everything is lost.  
>Author's note: there's blink-and-you'll-miss-it HeavyMedic

**.**

She had to pay the utmost attention while driving down the steep, twisting incline. Scout chatted away beside her; she didn't bother to try and respond, not with death being as close as a missed turn and a long fall. He'd barely left her side since yesterday. She would've been far more annoyed if she hadn't helped bury her own body with him.

Only when she'd passed the worst of the twists and turns, the company pick up jostling hard enough on the bumps that she thought something might fall off, that she began to speak.

"I know who did it. You were right. Spy showing me that was a ploy," she said.

"What? No! It ain't Spy, it ain't him at all," Scout said.

"I was there, I saw the Balisong in Richard's back. I felt the Balisong twist in _my own back_," she said.

He flinched at that, the shock of the memory halting his response. The twists stopped, until it was nothing but the craggy edge and a thin dirt road between trees. During the rainy season this base wasn't even accessible from land.

"I was there and I beat down the Spy robot until it was nothin' but pieces. It wasn't his knife," Scout said.

"Are you sure we can trust him?" she said, changing a glance over at him. "Just because he was the one to alert us to the breach doesn't mean he was uninvolved. He could be trying to curry favor, exonerate himself..."

"Ehhh, it's not like I was keepin' it from you exactly..." Scout said.

"_Scout_," she said.

"It wasn't like I kept it quiet intentionally! It's just, I know him. Kinda, at least. Turncoatin' ain't beyond him, but he ain't goin' to shit where he sleeps. He ain't goin' to do anythin' which puts me in too much danger, and betrayin' us and killin' you? Way too close for somethin' he won't get anythin' out of," Scout said.

"What are you saying? You've got some secret friendship? He's never had a single conversation with you where you both didn't storm off in anger," she said.

"Well, the truth is, He's hung around my family since I was little. Not like around a family gatherin' or anythin'. He bailed us out. None of the families will even touch us after what he did when those Patriarca guys. I think the only reason he didn't kill 'em all was ma didn't want to kill the unrelated people. You know, the women, the children. Stuff like that," he said.

Nothing in her files had ever indicated he'd been behind the downfall of the Patriarca family, though for once, she didn't think Scout was exaggerating at all. This added a new layer to consider in future decisions.

"And you aren't angry at all about this? He treats you worse than even Engineer and Sniper, and he can't even go through a briefing without insulting them," she said.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, a gesture he always took on when sheepish, or at a slow burn of anger and distaste that he couldn't process all the way. "On a scale of things I'm pissed about, that's about a two. I can wait until this is all over to punch him in the dick, he'll still be around," Scout said.

"Well, there goes my lead," she said. She gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. A sense of futility, like she'd slid down whatever incline she'd managed to collect. All her plans had come to naught. The mission she'd started with Scout hadn't shown any new data. If anything, this strike might be revenge for the false info.

She brought the truck to a stop. Fog had rolled in during the night. She had no patience for the beauty of nature when it made it easier for Gray Mann to kill them all. Scout reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Nah, you're real smart like. You'll figure it out. And until then, I ain't leavin' your side-I'll beat down anyone who ever tries to backstab you again."

"I haven't made any progress," she said. It was the same feeling as in her youth. Just missing a problem she knew and getting a B, not getting into the university she so wanted just because she was a girl. She could never stand failure in herself, and even pitted up against impossible odds.

"I just...really want to punch Gray Mann in the face after all this," she said.

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Trust me, I'll let you get plenty of shots when I take my bat to him."

"Oh, hell no. I'm not going to sit back and let you get all the fun. If we're going to kill people together, we've got to have an equal opportunity maiming clause. In fact, I should draw up the contract..." Miss Pauling said, distracted.

He laughed into the back of his right hand, the bandages still faintly spattered with blood with his nigh daily skirmish with Soldier. "The contract? Jeez, you're such a paper pusher, it's..." His gaze softened as he looked at her. "Abso-frickin'-lutely perfect."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said.

"And you know how it is, nobody's got more confidence than me," he said, thrusting his thumb to his chest.

Miss Pauling knew she was in deep when even his smugness was endearing to her. But even this small haven of happiness couldn't beat back the war. Stress had wound itself a tight ball inside her. The reveal of the day before would have consequences, even if they hadn't become apparent yet.

If she and Scout wasn't enough, then she had no choice but to rely on other mercenaries. She couldn't fight an army alone, no matter how much she wanted to be able to finish it on her own, dot it off as another A+ and exemplary progress.

**.**

Scout had been banned from Engineer's warehouse after an unfortunate incident with a baseball, a broken window, and a particular piece which Engineer had been at work for over two years.  
>Engineer had a habit of saving the cracked remains of the robots to use as fodder for his sentries. She couldn't tell if it was merely practical, or his own sense of vengeance that fueled it.<p>

This particular workshop was smaller than his others, almost claustrophobic, with half-done projects and twisted metal scrap on almost every available surface. The sleek metallic interior had turned damaged with his many experiments. Dents in the walls from sentry tests, and a scent of rust and oil which never went away.

She spoke above the machinery. He was polite enough to stop his saw, and turn to her. A robotic Pyro was dissembled on the worktable. The real Pyro was occupied with blocks with little computer readouts that Engineer had made in a corner, completely oblivious to the noise. One side of the blocks had rainbows and ponies, the other had paintings of hellfire and brimstone.

At first, she thought perhaps the Administrator was paying Engineer to take care of Pyro. An inspection deeper into his bank accounts with the company showed no such extra billable hours. Whether his care of Pyro was currying later favors to keep his buildings safe, or if he genuinely cared about Pyro, she couldn't say. With most of the mercenaries, she assumed the worst of their emotional capabilities; The Administrator wouldn't have hired them otherwise.

"Before you scrap them, I'd like to scan them. You do have robotic scanning software on hand, right?" Miss Pauling said.

"Like you even need to ask," Engineer said genially. He wiped his oil-slick gloves off on a rag, and left it on the work table. From one of the many cluttered shelves, he brought down a small machine, much like his PDA. He held it over the battered remains of the robot, the blue light flickering, then disappearing. It went faster than expected, though decoding it on the actual computer console was something else entirely.

"No password required to get this data, that's a good sign," Engineer said.

The few robots he had harvested had been damaged enough that none of the data was complete, but she hoped they were just intact enough to find something.

She shifted from foot to foot. Not even with her back to the wall would she find any safety here, as Engineer was notorious about booby-trapping his places. Anyone who so much as bumped into the wrong shelf might find a laser pointed right between their eyes.

And then, there was Pyro, who was unpredictable at best. Half the time gentle and childlike, half the time taking glee burning everything to the ground. Before Engineer took Pyro under his wing, she'd had to cover up quite a few towns completely burnt to the ground.

However, it went far more quickly than she thought it would. Engineer must have put some upgrades to the machinery provided, for even Administrator's strongest surveillance computers didn't work like that.

"I think you should see this," he said.

"It's..." she said.

There was a moment of cold in her blood. Every bad possibility had been distilled into the worst possible outcome. And it was inescapably true, all of it.

"Bad?" Engineer suggested.

She nodded.

Gray Mann had much more of their data than even Spy had theorized. The data was damaged, but there was enough to see that every single seed of false information Scout had placed was in there. Either all of the men were betraying her, or none of them were, and she'd wasted precious time she should've used to flush the traitor out of upper management and surveillance.

However, it went both ways. Even as she felt the sicking fall in the pit of her stomach as more and more of their data was revealed, she saw the home coordinates. After her first failed infiltration, which they'd barely escaped from, Gray Mann had moved his headquarters. The tall building had become nothing more than a factory, one which the mercenaries had gleefully destroyed before she could. Since then, nothing had turned up in her attempts at reconnaissance, and little had changed in the men's habit of destroying all robots to the point where not even the slightest data could be gleaned.

"It's not far," she said.

All this time, he'd been less than an hour away, the smokestacks of his castle hidden by mountains. It could be no coincidence that he just happened to build his base within striking distance of theirs.

How long had Gray Mann known their plans? How long had he been mining away their schematics? She had thought with the time stamps of Spy's report it was a very recent breech, but the possibility remained that Gray Mann had been watching them for years with lurid intensity, marking every battle until he knew exactly when to strike.

"Thank you for your assistance," she said, a little too stiffly. She cleared her throat and tried again, to brush over any showing ripples of distrust. "You've been integral to cracking this."

"I know you ain't trustin' us, but my family goes back decades with this company. I watched my first matches at ten. At twelve my papa helped me raise up my first machines. Betrayin' you would be like backstabbin' my own family."

"It was nothing personal. I had to assume everyone was a suspect," she said.

Engineer took off his hardhat and held it to his chest. "Just tell me if you need anythin' more. Me and Pyro are at your disposal."

Hearing them speak his name, Pyro looked up from the corner, and titled his head.

"That one was always good at good at sniffin' out spies or any other varmints that would try and backstab us. If you need any more proof, I keep surveillance videos of my own. Nobody is goin' to be breakin' into my machines and live to tell the tale," Engineer said.

With one last glance to Pyro, she nodded. "I could use all the allies I can get."

**.**

A few hours of her time guaranteed Engineer an alibi. Even as her mind kept reminding her _he could've edited the footage_, she took a chance. She and Scout couldn't take an entire fortress alone. They'd barely managed against one wave, let alone an entire building full of robots.

The thin, metallic mess hall only had a fraction of the men. Someone had already managed dinner out of their rations, though the result looked something like pig slop with extra mud.

Scout lifted up the plate and made a disgusted sound. "Beans _again? _ Are you _tryin' _ to kill us?"

"Beans are a feast when you have starved. You would not survive starving. Too skinny, too loud," Heavy said.

"What does bein' loud have to do with it? Besides, you're actin' like I never went hungry a day in my life. I was raised in the Iprojects/i, pally. I wasn't exactly eatin' on golden plates."

Few others would dare to get into Heavy's face, provoke him or even insult him. But that kind of brazenness was commonplace for him. Before she could call him back, Heavy returned to his food. He knew how to beat Scout most surely of all: to ignore him completely.

"We'll get more supplies soon. Someone went through the kitchen and ate everything we've just gotten," she said.

None of the men looked too guilty at this, then again, they were consummate killers and liars, so that was no surprise.

"Wish that thievin' asshole would've at least taken the beans," Scout muttered.

"Man up, private. Beans are patriotic food. Why, I ate nothing but beans and the blood of my enemies when I won these medals." He pointed to his chest, where you could just see the faint text of C_oca-Cola _ on his 'medals.' His purple heart was a Dr. Pepper cap, his medal of valor a beer bottle top.

"I don't think they give out medals for stinkin' up the common room," Scout said. He scrunched up his nose and pushed the bowl aside.

This could go nowhere good. Already there was a set in Soldier's jaw, the sort that usually came before he snapped someone's neck.

"Where's Sniper?" she cut in, drawing the attention away from them maiming each other.

"Holed inside his van, probably with all that missing food. Scout tried to talk to him, but he won't hear reason. He's convinced that the traitor is goin' after him next," Engineer said.

Demoman was nursing a hangover at the table. The stress had gotten to all of them in little ways, cracking their confidence, their composure and calm. He lifted his head, giving them a bloodshot eye glare.

"Keep it down, lads, there's a wounded man, here," Demoman said.

"Ma always needed some hair of the dog. When I was a kid, I tried to give her actual dog hair," Scout said. He grinned, waiting for the laugh. She smiled when none of the other men would.

She'd taken Soldier and Heavy on the first assault. Even though that one had been less than successful, they'd gotten out alive.

She couldn't see Soldier willingly being a traitor. His warped view of patriotism and nationalism wouldn't allow anything less than absolute loyalty.

"You orders are to fortify the walls. If we don't come back, you'll have to contact the Administrator and let her know where we stand...and what's left of us," she said. She couldn't quite hide the catch in her voice, no matter how hard she tried.

"You're comin' back. I'll keep the home fires burnin', and make sure Respawn is in top notch," he said.

"No matter how good of shape it's in, it won't help us from miles away," she said.

Engineer chuckled. "You say that like I didn't spend the entire mornin' updatin' it. We could die in Texas and still end up back here in one piece," he said.

"You're a _genius_," she said.

Engineer smiled. "I know."

He pulled out his PDA, looking over the screen, and signaling the close of the conversation. She cleared her throat to speak above the din of a whole roomful of rowdy men.

"Heavy, Soldier, Demoman, you're with me. As soon as you're done eating, report for duty at the front," she said.

"Aye, it's been too long since my blade's tasted blood. Eyelander's getting' grumpy and stealin' all me Scrumpy."

"We can't have that," she said dryly. A drunken group of mercenaries was one thing. A drunken cursed sword which fed on human heads and blood? Even worse.

"We'll show those robots what real patriotism is like!" Soldier burst out.

"Make 'em buy American and saddle them with debt," Demoman said.

"Exactly!" Soldier said.

"My gun is cleaned and ready. After lunch, robots die," Heavy said. He returned his attention to his beans, while Soldier and Demoman high-fived each other.

Scout looked from all of them, clutching his bowl harder for a moment, before pushing it away entirely. He'd been quiet for so many seconds that something had to be wrong, or something had ripped out his vocal cords while she wasn't looking.

Another check off her list. She'd have to find whatever gutter Medic had gone looking for body parts in and take him as well. Having someone who could heal woulds could deeply increase their chances of getting out alive.

She started towards the hall. She still had to find Spy and tell him what was happening. He wasn't fit for a frontal assault, but perhaps he could find a way through the secret passageways...

She heard a rush of pounding footsteps behind her. She turned to see Scout askew, his hat lost in the haste to catch her.

"Miss Pauling, what about me? Sophie, you ain't leavin'-"

She turned to him. For all his attempts at composure, he showed every bit of hurt and neglect he felt.

"You're my default. I never have to put you on the list because you're always already there," she said.

"You-You-"

Without warning, he hugged her from behind, so sudden and full of emotion that he nearly pushed her over.

"You nearly pushed me to the ground," she said, far less irritated than she should have been.  
>In fact, she was on the brink of laughing.<p>

"I would've caught you," he said.

"We both would've ended up on the floor together," she said.

"Sounds like a fun fall, but then I've been fallin' for you for years, so nothin' new there."

A cleared throat made her realize that this impromptu moment hadn't gone unnoticed. Soldier, Heavy and Demoman stood in the doorway. She soon realized that Medic was there as well, just hidden by Heavy's massive body. Apparently, Heavy had informed him of the matter, clearing up on more thing for the list.

"You finally did it," Soldier said, his voice full of pride.

"Yeah, I did," Scout said. He pulled off his cap and ran his hand through his hair, unable to quite keep the blush off his face.

"He managed not to fall on his face for once, priceless," Spy said. He materialized right before the door, a sapper in hand.

"Go to hell, Spy," Scout said.

"From what I overheard, that's where we're going," Spy said.

"Well, this makes it easier," she said.

If she could call it that, taking a small group of men and attacking an entire base.

"Everybody needs to give their all. This isn't just a battle for our jobs; it's a battle for our lives," Miss Pauling said.

"Excuse you, I always bring my A game," Scout said.

Demoman took one last drink of Scrumpy. He passed it around so each man took one shot, no less.

"Aye, I can't promise I'll be completely sober, but this is about as sober as I ever will be," Demoman said.

**.**

Scout had called shotgun along the ride, but with Spy pushed between them, there wasn't much talking. Smoke filled the interior of the car. Behind them, Soldier and Demoman told loud stories she couldn't make out. Medic was nestled beside Heavy's massive frame, hidden away from wind which had sprung up, lending a chill to the air.

She parked far enough that she needed binoculars to see the doorway, hidden between trees and an outcropping of rock. Scout stretched between the trees, too restless to sit still any longer.

No guards, no alarm. The gridlock at the door flickered. She brought down the lenses and turned to her left. The rest of the men had gotten out of the truck to prep their materials, busying their fingers until the inevitable battle came.

"Spy, I need you to get in closer. Disarm the front, and tell me what you find," she said.

Spy didn't respond, only took a mouthful of smoke before disappearing like a woodsmoke ghost.

Heavy loaded shells into his massive gun, while Medic cleaned the blood off his medigun tip. He frowned a moment as he pulled out a severed finger from the between the coils of the apparatus.

"So _that's _where that finger went. Ja, I thought I had lost it," Medic said. He put the finger into his bloodstained pocket.

"How long has it been since we fight robots together, doctor?"

"Entirely too long," Medic said. "Days, at least. And even if they don't have that satisfying _splatter of blood_, murdering robots is quite enjoyable as well," Medic said.

He patted Heavy's arm, and whispered low _A robot massacre_. They held that gaze for several moments, a wordless meshing together, until they would work as one-the fabled _Übermensch_ split between two bodies.

Miss Pauling mentally checked off her list, keeping her own restless fingers busy. No amount of preparation could make this smooth, but she would have to do what she could with what little she had.

Spy reappeared. "It's already been disarmed. It seems we may have not been Gray Mann's only enemies."

"Could you see anything?" Miss Pauling asked.

"Nothing," Spy said.

Had he gotten word and abandoned his headquarters? She'd come too far to not take that risk.

"And side entrances? Other methods of getting in?" Miss Pauling said.

"They were closed up like an abandoned building. The power has been cut in places, leaving nothing but dark rooms. Only the front door is still functional, though only just barely," Spy said.

A trap, or the remains of a robot graveyard? If the past few days had taught her anything, it was that they couldn't win defensively, not with the amount of their data Gray Mann had gotten to.

"We make a frontal assault. If it gets too overwhelming, we're pulling back. Medic, make sure your medigun is completely in working order-we're going to need it," she said.

"I tested it today. I was able to regenerate an entire arm in less than a minute!"

"Whose arm?" she said.

"That is not important," Medic said, a little too cheerfully.

No robots had appeared, despite them being within the gates of Gray Mann's base. The halls they walked through were eerie, filled with only smoking and sparking remains, and a few robots which turned in circles, completely lost. Circuits to the mainframe were rerouted. Doors outside of the main path were broken or locked.

What she thought would be the hardest fight of her life was a robot graveyard. The robots that hadn't been turned to scraps of broken metal on the floor were like aimless zombies, their circuits so fried that they barely even took notice of them.

When a wave of robots finally came through the metallic depths, they were languid, diseased. They came like they were pushing underwater while drunk. She couldn't even tell if they were coming for them, or simply coming and they happened to be in the way.

Soldier and Demoman looked to each other, and shared a wordless nod. Demoman pulled out a Sword, Soldier a shovel. In tandem they hacked away at the robots, screaming until the halls echoed with their bloodlust.

A stealth mission was doomed to failure if Soldier was ever a part of it. Unlike all her foretelling of a hard battle, the defenses had been gutted. No sentries appeared, no robots had regained their senses so far.

"Miss Pauling?" Heavy asked. A polite man always asked for permission before massacring robots.

"Go ahead. Destroy them all. They might snap out of it at any time, so we'll glean our samples from the robots further in," she said.

Heavy laughed. "Come, doctor. Is robot killing time!"

"Ja!"

They never looked happier when they were killing together. Well, except when Medic was sneaking in bodies he'd stolen from the local morgue to experiment on. Or at least she hoped he'd stolen from the morgue.

"Shall we?" Spy said.

Among the laughter and chaos, they moved towards the end of the winding hall. A continual beeping sounded, like a distress call. She couldn't help looking back, past the flickering lights for a sign that out of this hollowed-out husk of a building, some life still existed.

The doors beside them burst, and the robots that came out were all wrong. Legs backwards, heads barely attached. They lurched forward, making a sound like a broken music box. She lifted her gun and fired, hitting one squarely in the loose head. One hit was all it took to detach the head entirely. The pieces collapsed like a marionette, strings akimbo.

"Master...Master..." said the nearest robot in a strangely human voice.

"_Master, master_."

More of them came out, tangled and wrong, smoking bullet holes cracking through their chests and legs. Dead dull eyes regarded her. They cracked in pieces as Scout fired off two rounds. He stood between her and the robots, a thin shield of flesh and bone.

"The door's just ahead," she said.

A broken, stuttered message going over and over. _Master, master_. She ducked as another robot came close. She fired off a glancing shot, he finished it with his baseball bat, knocking several of them together.

They fizzled, dulled until they were broken dolls, certainly nothing harmful left. Nothing was left of the threat that they had barely survived. The roar of mini-gun bullets ceased. No sword strike, no rockets. The hallway was bare bones and wires. They walked over the crunching corpses of the robots. Occasionally one would let out a long _master... _ before completely shutting down.

The door at the end of the hall was open and sparking. She found him slumped forward on the desk. His suit was stained in red. Robots malfunctioned around him, their hailing mechanism overclocked until they ignored all commands.

The war was over, though she felt no relief. Someone else was behind this, someone strong enough to wreck Gray Mann's entire headquarters, leave his armies as limping husks, and leave his body out as a warning, a clear message which she had yet to decode.

She had seen no trace of Olivia. She could only hope that the child had crawled into an air vent, or whoever had done this had shown mercy on a child.

A robot considered her. Of the many destroyed pieces, this one remained untouched, as if it were waiting for her. Its eyes shone blue, unlike the dim zombie robots they had passed along the way.

"Take this one alive, we'll try and piece together the rest of the lot," she said.

"Hailing...failed. If God wanted you to live, he would not have created me-beep, error. Beep, bepp-Password necessary. Password necessary."

She thought on this. Gray Mann's life was largely unknown, even to her. Except-.

"Olivia," she said.

"Error. Please enter password? Two tries remaining..."

"Freedom?" Miss Pauling said.

"Error. Please enter password? One try remaining..."

Even as she racked her mind, nothing came. Gray Mann might as well be unassailable.

But Soldier? He wasn't. Of all the mercenaries, he was perhaps the easiest to placate. Other than Scout, that was.

"The password is 'Do it for America, Soldier. You'll surely get a medal for your bravery.'"

"Beep? Beep! Beep beep!" The robot's eyes flashed several times. He shuddered, metal clanging. She stepped back, away from the impending explosion.

"Overriding password."

The robot's eyes flashed for a moment, and then the data was broadcast right on the wall in a show of blue light and lines. She recognized the data immediately, though few others would. Only her and the Administrator would've had the clearance for this level. They were complex enough that even the builders didn't know, partly because the Administrator had a strict policy of killing the people she hired when she was done with them. At the end of the well of data was a single word: _Royal purple_.

The wrongness all went into place. She'd encoded that word into numbers, inputted numerical variations of it thousands of times through doors. She had even playfully integrated the code, taking her A in history to include the scrambled names of kings and queens throughout history. She turned, feeling slowed, numbed. She moved like she was underwater, like all the foundations had been pulled free and she was left with only fragments.

"Miss Pauling?" Scout said. "Is somethin' wrong? You look-Miss Pauling?"

"No...I was just caught by surprise," she said. "I..."

She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus, the mission, everything relied on finishing this.

"Take this one back, we'll have Engineer dissect the data," she said. "Disable it and leave it in the back of the truck.

Heavy picked up the robot as if it weighted as little as a rag doll.

"Once that's done, Heavy, you and Medic go secure the perimeters and other rooms. Soldier and Demoman, you guard the front. Spy, check around the vents. Olivia can't be left here alone," she said. "Make sure to check if there's any other computers to access along the way."

"Scout, guard this door. I need to be alone to take the last data check. If anything comes, call for help. Don't take an army on alone." she said.

'But-" Scout said.

"Your earpiece. You'll never be more than a step away. No one's going to catch me this time; you won't let them," she said.

"It's some high classified stuff?" Scout said. His concern overshadowed everything.

"Yes. I don't want any of you witnessing anything which might make me have to...give you disciplinary action," she said.

"But, you won't get in trouble, right? Because you're high up and awesome and stuff."

She paused a moment before responding. Scout caught the space, the slight hesitation.

"Right?" Scout said, sounding more desperate, more concerned.

"Right. I won't be put on probation, but you all might," she said.

"Oh, okay. Don't want you havin' to do a bunch of paperwork 'cause I was a jackass who couldn't keep my nose out of stuff. Call if you need me. Or if you feel lonely, or if you just need to see my biceps to cheer up after seein' all these robots. Always got time to show you free flexes," Scout said.

Not even his antics could bring a smile out of her. She nodded, dismissing him. Miss Pauling turned so she wouldn't have to see his hurt expression.

She held to the desk to avoid stepping into the blood that had pooled down to the floor. The blood on the walls had faded to coagulated rust. A piece of machinery lay upon the desk.

His pens, papers and other data were askew. Footprints were left in the blood. How messy, whoever had taken this out had done nothing to hide the body, or any evidence of any kind. A hack job, but not an elegant one, nothing like the kind of kills she'd done through the years.

She recognized the machine as a small television, usually kept on a ill-fated messenger's chest. Unlike others, this one was not a live feed. She switched it on, only to find a fragment of surveillance inside.

The footage was one day earlier, according to the date listed at the corner. Robots passed in working order, Gray mann sat in his office and regarded someone just off screen.

"It's been a while," Gray Mann said.

"I didn't come here for pleasantries," The voice said. Husky, thick, she'd taken thousands of orders from that voice.

"I gave you simple guidelines, and yet you felt the need to push at them. As if I wouldn't _notice _ your indiscretions?"

"I'm afraid you made a mistake if you ever thought I'd be nothing but your tool," Gray Mann said, his voice filled with disdain.

"And you made a mistake for thinking I would ever let this stand. Your services are no longer needed."

She'd never seen the Administrator get her hands dirty. She was always ordering other people to do the killings for her. But this time, she did. She twisted the knife in deep, taking her time, savoring the shock on Gray Mann's face. Then, she stood back and watched him die, smoking a cigarette all the while as his blood splattered across the wall.

The firing squad after the stabbing was an overkill, but Administrator never did anything halfway, especially not to someone who had tried to double-cross her.

The screen went black. She saw her face reflected, and she knew exactly who the mole had been all along. She'd spent so much time trying to figure out who was leaking information, when she hadn't secured any of the surveillance equipment. She hadn't taken away Scout's earpiece, which he was constantly forgetting to turn off. Even now, she knew this was a warning left for her.

**.**

The last footage had shown Olivia escaping with a whole wave of robots. While the robots that filled the factory had been gutted, the war was far from over. The robot had been left with Engineer to further extract data, though the most important details had already come out.

Even as worn as she was, she made her way to the gym. A restlessness was in her. Her mind kept going over and over that video with the sure knowledge that she knew that voice. She couldn't pretend it had been faked, that she'd misheard. And she knew what it meant. She was being fired. Miss Pauling had done it so many times that she couldn't remember the names, only the shallow graves and blur of faces. So many had realized only as the hard barrel of her gun was pushed to the back of their head that this wasn't a talk about benefits or a pay raise.

She'd sacrificed so many years of her life for what? To be tossed aside and be buried in a shallow grave? She was supposed to be Idifferent/i. More trusted than all the other people she'd been ordered to kill, too valuable to ever discard and leave under a layer of quicklime. Sometimes she'd even thought that the Administrator liked her-at least as much as it was possible for her to like anyone-and valued all the hard work Miss Pauling had put into the company.

_Naive. I was so Naive. And so damn stupid, but most of all naive. How could I have trusted her to the end?_

One glaring fact remained unanswered. If so, then who put her in Respawn? Engineer? Medic? Some combination of the two? And if so, what hint of danger had made them act? Whose orders were they acting on?

Usually when her day was too stressful, she'd go to the firing range and empty a couple of clips into the targets. But Saxton Hale was and always had been an ally of the Administrator.

And so had she, until a few hours ago.

They'd have to be careful with every bit of ammo they had. No wasteful drunken nights of shooting up the ceiling, no making patterns in the walls with bullets for fun. She would have to monitor the men even more closely, at least until she made it back to headquarters.

She hit the punching bag hard enough to make it go flying. It never came back to hit her—strong arms held it back.

Heavy held the chain of the punching bag until it hung still.

"Your posture is wrong," he said.

"I'm just letting off some steam," she said. She pushed her hair back from where it'd come undone, dark black falling into her face.

"Your feet, they go like this," Heavy said.

She hadn't seen the chalk hidden in his massive hands. He drew two foot outlines on the mat, drawn like a body had once been there. She put her foot on the marks, and lifted her fists again.

"And your hands, they need gloves or wraps. If you ask Scout, he will show you. No gloves your size," Heavy said.

"I wasn't really thinking," she said.

"You expected a fight, and someone else had already gotten there," Heavy said.

Her expectations and the truth were so far apart, she could barely even connect them. Was he in on it as well? Perhaps all the mercenaries had been traitors, pawns under her control whether willing or not.

"Punch. Beat out the anger. Is good for you," Heavy said.

She slammed her fist so hard into the punching bag that she felt an edge of pain. It brought her back into focus.

**.**

Scout had been huddled outside her door. He moved his ball back and forth, something to assuage his restlessness. Only when he felt something against his head did he look up to see a letter shoved in his face. He hadn't even heard the asshole come around. Fucking stealthy spies.

"How the hell did you get to Boston and back in that amount of time?" Scout said incredulously.

"I have my ways," Spy said.

"I bet you got like a secret jet plane or somethin'. Am I gettin' close?" Scout said. As much as the guy pissed him off, he had to admit it was cool. A secret jetpack or plane? Man, that was _James Bond _ level cool.

"If so, you'd be the last to know," Spy said.

Scout took the letter and ripped it open, too eager to take any care. It was doused with his mother's perfume, which had only faded a little in the journey. He pushed the pieces of envelope paper to his face and took in a deep breath. He remembered all the times he'd put his head to her stomach and been pulled close, told comforting words.

_Just keep workin' and you'll be a champion runner yet. Those nuns don't know a thing, don't you take their words to heart._

"That was only if the worst happened, though. You didn't go tellin' her I went and died, did you?"

"Of course not. I spent some time forging a letter, complete with some photos of what you've been up to. She told me to tell you that she expects Miss Pauling for dinner as soon as possible."

Scout could only gape. Just when he thought he'd figured out that guy, he went and pulled some off the wall shit. Here he was, smirking like a smug motherfucker.

He opened up the letter and quickly scanned over her familiar cursive writing. His ma always wrote so prettily, like something to frame on the wall. She tried to pass it down, but his brothers and him either couldn't sit still long enough to take the lessons, or didn't want handwriting like that.

There was a picture of his ma waving at the camera in the living room. He wanted to hold it to his chest and make all this stress go away. Pretend he didn't have to deal with saving the world or watching his girl die for just a little while. But like hell he would do that in front of Spy.

"What do I owe ya?" Scout said.

"Nothing. She already paid. Quite _nicely_, might I add," Spy said. His voice positively dripped with suggestiveness.

Scout frowned. It took him a second for it to all fall into place. When he'd been a kid, he sort of thought the guy might be an uncle or something. With age and far less innocence, it was all falling into place.

"You motherfuckin' jerkwad-"

"Indeed," Spy said. He laughed and disappeared before Scout could even throw a single punch.

"The minute this war is over, I'm goin' to punch your face in! You hear me? Your time is marked!

Spy peeked (frigging _peeked_) about the corner. "And what would your mother think about that?"

Fucking hell. He couldn't believe the guy had pulled the 'i'm going to call your ma' trick. Sure, he'd pulled that throughout childhood and still from time to time when his brothers put him a headlock he couldn't escape, but to have it used against him? Now Ithat/i was humiliating.

"Smile for the camera," Spy said .

Scout gave him two middle fingers and the worst frown he could muster.  
>He opened up the letter and smiled despite himself. Ma looked so happy. It kind of irked him that she was happy there and it had nothing to do with him, but he swallowed it down. He didn't know this asshole's name, but he'd never let them down. He'd kill to see his mother happy again, steal and lie and yes, even tolerate that smug jerkface.<p>

With a long sigh, Scout said the most difficult words of his life other than Iit's like you're under my skin./i

"I'm not callin' you 'dad' if you come to Thanksgiving," Scout said.

"Good, I wouldn't want people thinking we're related," Spy said. He shot one last picture and disappeared down the hall.

"The least you could've done is tell me where she is," Scout muttered. This time, Spy didn't appear. So, Scout waited. He'd been waiting six years; he could wait a few more hours for her.

**.**

She kept her secret inside for hours. Cold and metallic, the voice she knew so well. It was only when they were alone that he touched her cheek. For someone who she'd once assumed was nothing more than a self-absorbed skirtchaster, he was quite perceptive when it came to her.

"You all right?" Scout said. His voice was full of gentleness and tenderness. Just the sound of it was a small comfort.

"I'm exhausted; we all are," she said.

"You can say that again. I'm about ready for a ten-year vacation," Scout said.

He patted the bed beside him. "Rest your feet, they gotta be achin'," he said.

He put his arm about her shoulders and held her tight to him. She leaned into him a bit, focusing a moment at the warmth of his skin.

"I was lookin' for you. About tore the place up, but then I figured, maybe you didn't wanna be found," he said.

"I was hitting the punching bag, but Heavy, he said my posture was wrong, and I needed to wrap my hands," she said.

"Oh, just lemme know, I'll make your hands look like they're dressed up for the ball-ball breakin', that is!"

She didn't smile.

"What, is it back there? Ain't it good that Gray Mann got shanked? He sure as hell deserved it. I know you're disappointed that we didn't get to beat him ourselves, but it ain't the end of the world. There'll be plenty of others to beat down, and we'll enjoy smashin' their skulls in just as much."

"I know who did it...It wasn't any of the men. Or at least they never masterminded it. They probably all helped along, even I did," Miss Pauling said.

"Wait, you're sayin'?"

"I know who our traitor is," she said.

"Who?" Scout said. "Do I even know them?"

"I feel like if I even say it, they'll hear," Miss Pauling said, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't help but look behind, as if even now, she was on camera, every little action being laid out and dissected. It probably was. Every little plan, every little strike back and she never thought deep enough. It was unfathomable to think of her as a traitor. The one she'd served, killed for and run so many errands for.

It shouldn't be a surprise. She'd 'ended the contract' of so many people that she'd lost count.

All those times she'd told Scout to not trust anyone, she'd been a hypocrite. All this time, she'd trusted the _Administrator_, of all people. The one person she should trust least she'd expected to keep the order, to have all the best interest of the company at heart. But she'd destroyed the paperwork and hollowed out the many shell corporations for the Administrator. For all she knew, this was their pink slip.

"What are we goin' to do?" Scout said.

"I'm going to fix this. I don't know how, but I am," she said.

He didn't press her for details. Instead stroked her hair. His chest smelled faintly of smoke and oil. She let herself sink, let herself be comforted. Giving in, intimacy, all so foreign at heart, and yet she did not draw back or push him away.

"No matter what, I got your back, aight? Ain't nothin' goin' to change that," Scout said.

She looked up to his gaze and saw only love and that assurance he always had. So innate, even when they were losing, all he could see was victory.

"You don't know who you're facing. We very well could erased from Respawn and in shallow graves," she said.

"Don't matter. I told you, I'm with you till the end," Scout said.

"And, you know...it ain't just this mission, right? When I said I'm with you until then, I meant it."

Somehow, he always knew the words to say to make everything all right, even when the world was on the precipice of crashing down around her.

"I know," she said.

"Good, now don't you forget. No mater what, don't you ever forget."

She could hardly forget something burned inside her, fire-forged kisses, the cold of water, the edge of life and death cutting so near. She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him and reclaim that moment of safety, the warmth and hope that he always seemed to find within her.

**.**

Despite her inexperience, of anything, Olivia was far more aggressive than Gray Mann ever had been. Whereas he had used tactics, Olivia was pure youth and rage. Fueled by vengeance, she and her battalion kept up an assault. Engineer's improved defense system kept her out of the mountain base, but it didn't keep Olivia from following their escape, with small, vicious attacks wherever she could.

But the army was small enough that the men were sufficient, even as the day by day attacks wore them down. Today was no different. If anything, she'd gotten used to ducking to avoid bullets, to waking up to robots attacking them—if she'd even slept the night before at all.

"Hey, they're behind us," Scout said. "Gunnin' for us and everythin'."

He ducked as a bullet crashed through the back window.

"Don't tell me you've never shot from a moving vehicle before," she said.

"Shot my mouth out," Scout said. "But I do that all the time."

"I'll shoot ye mouth off myself," Demoman said.

"Heavy, Demoman, Soldier, you know what to do!" She had to yell above the storm of incoming bullets, but they heard her. Rockets pitted the countryside.

The tank moved on, crushing the trees between them. It was slow enough to be no direct threat as long as they kept moving. However, it seemed different than usual. In the side window, she saw Olivia pop up from the top, waving and smiling in a way which was both sweet and deeply vicious all at once.

This complicated things, but she'd dealt with worse. Miss Pauling swerved as a robot arm went flying, metal pieces raining down with rocket shrapnel.

"No matter what, don't destroy that tank. Understood? No matter what happens, we are not stooping low enough to kill a child."

She heard several shouts of agreement.

She may have the blood of thousands on her hands, but she wasn't about to add a child to the list. Even a vicious homicidal one bent on revenge.

She kept driving, the many shots ringing in her ears. From the rear view mirror she could see several robots fall. Broken pieces scattering across the ground. At least she'd gotten out of the mountains before Olivia caught up to them. The dirt road was bumpy at best, but it wasn't a winding path where any wrong turn could mean falling to their death.

"It'll be better when we get to the headquarters," Scout said.

He always tried to find hope in the most desolate of places.

But for now, she kept driving. Engineer liked to tinker with little things, and her vehicles were no exception. The robots would run out of oil long before she ran out of gas. As long as her tires held up.

She heard a cry of triumph and victory behind her. Another glance at the rear view showed the tank caught between trees and rocks, the robot force mostly decimated. The men behind her cheered, a ten-gun salute to Olivia's inexperience and poor plannings.

In the end, she chose to take her fate alone. She wouldn't entangle the men in her war. She would face the Administrator head on, no matter what the consequences.

**.**

She returned to New Mexico as if it were a typical day. The codes hadn't been changed, no rain of bullets shot them down. Miss Pauling walked in with as much nonchalance as she could fake.

Lying had always been a particular skill of hers. Now was no different as she smiled at orderlies who had probably helped her die, and who she'd have to kill off if she lived long enough.

She nodded to orderlies as she passed. She'd rarely intermingled too much with people she'd eventually just have to kill. Coffee in hand, clipboard under one arm, she walked steadily towards the main office. A room of smoke and television screens which the Administrator presided over like a fell queen of the underworld.

Her gun was at her thigh, full of bullets. There was a knife at the other thigh holster, but that was a fail-safe; if the Administrator survived the first strike, Miss Pauling wouldn't live long enough to get a second chance.

She smiled, and put the coffee before her. Poison was out of the question; The Administrator always checked.

"You're late, Miss Pauling," she said.

The Administrator turned the chair around to face her. There was no give, no telling twitch to reveal her plans.

Of course not. She'd ordered the deaths of thousands, and that was only the beginning. How many had she ordered killed in her lifetime? Millions, probably. Enough to rival the great tyrants who down in history with shocked whispers and bloodstains deep enough to ensure their name was never lost to history, even as their victims were left in unmarked graves.

"We ran into quite a few _hitches,_" Miss Pauling said. She was unable to quite keep the edge out of her voice. She cleared her throat and started again. "–But, they've been cleared up, as has the head of the armies. There's still some roving robots, but with no orders from above, we hope to soon clean them out entirely. Then this whole mess will be behind us."

"Ah, that annoyance. Good riddance," The Administrator said.

The cold metal of the gun dug into her thigh, a reminder of her task.

"Is that all, Miss Pauling?" The Administrator said.

Miss Pauling said nothing.

"You're _weak_, Miss Pauling. In the end even as you realize I've been trying to kill you, you can't bring yourself to pull the trigger. Go on, kill me like you swore you would. I know you've got some viciousness in you, despite all that naivety and kindness you had to get over through the years."

Miss Pauling forced the steel barrel of the gun against the Administrator's forehead hard enough to leave bruises.

"Don't test me, don't you _dare _ test me. Firing me like this, after all I've done? I've killed thousands; I won't hesitate to make you one of them," she said.

The Administrator didn't even flinch. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and blew smoke in Miss Pauling's face.

"Test you?" The Administrator chuckled. "This was all a test. And whether you fail or pass hinges on one simple thing. Pull the trigger, Miss Pauling. You've done it dozens of times with whoever I told you. Now, as your superior, I'm commanding you: finish it. Or are you too weak?"

"I'm not weak," Miss Pauling said.

It took so little to end a life. A pull of a trigger, a knife across a neck, twisted in the back. For once, she hadn't remembered to put on a silencer. The gunshot was so loud. Everything felt slower, numbed for a moment. The front of her dress was stained in blood.

The Administrator had fallen back. She'd died with a smirk on her face, like she'd been the one victorious in the end.

She heard the breaking of glass, knew the voice that called out. Instantly she dropped the gun and pushed it under the seat. She clutched Helen's still warm body to her, a pieta of lies. She'd done it all before, she'd told every story before.

Saxton Hale broke down the door, oil spattered like blood over his chest.

"Helen-!"

"I-I was too late," she said. She bent down, faked a sob through the numbness stupor of fog she'd been pushing through since she realized.

"One of them snuck in here. One of those robot spies. I tried to do something, but I couldn't..." She ducked her head to give the appearance of tears. At this angle, he couldn't tell just how dry-eyed she was.

Saxton trembled with rage. There was a blankness to his eyes, one she knew so well. A world without the Administrator was like the sun being blotted out, the earth out of orbit. His moment of empty space solidified to pure rage. Vengeance and desolation, a coldness unleashed. No catch -phrases, no boyish charm. He clenched his fist.

"This has gone on far enough. Well, Robots, you want a fight? You've got it!"

She waited moments after he left for any others to come, for any more lies to add. When no orderlies or mercenaries came, she began to clean up. A battle raged on the screens. Olivia had untagled herself, or perhaps abandoned that tank. Either way, she had every bit of the forces against them.

She laid the body out on the floor. It felt wrong to prop her up, to play pretend that this never happened and she would just turn around, her job would continue as if she'd never been fired.

A manilla envelope lay on the front keyboard of the computer. No seals, no locks, no secret traps. No name was left, but she knew it was hers.

A video, and several papers was inside. She pulled out the papers first, and briefly glanced over them. Something insider her was too rattled, too marked by chaos to truly focus.

Six months ago, there was a line of coding of Respawn. She'd never seen this particular report. No, now she remembered. That was the day of the mainframe failure that knocked out the records.

Even that had been manipulated.

She recognized the last few lines of coding. The coding of Royal Purple, her own birthdate put into the machine. It hadn't been Engineer, or Medic after all. It made no sense. If she were being fired, the Administrator wouldn't strive to keep her alive. She remembered the lines on that surveillance tape, the brutal execution.

Shaking her head in confusion, she put the video into the computer slot. .The screen flickered with static for a moment before the scene came into focus. The Administrator considered the camera with her usual cynical derision.

"If you've found this, then you've succeeded. Congratulations, Miss Pauling, you've outgrown your naivety and delusions of kindness."

Administrator took a deep drag of her cigarette. Grey smoke curled up. Miss Pauling looked for a trace of humanity or feeling, but as ever, she found none.

"You idealized me, even trusted me at times. You always were too kind, with your _friendship _ and giving the mercenaries keys. You're surely thinking to yourself 'why would she do this?' I'll tell you why. My diagnosis said I had six months to live."

The Administrator coughed. No other sign. Even in all that time, she hadn't even guessed. She had kept up the facade so well that even her assistant had no clue.

But, the life machines. She held more power than anyone else in the world. There had to be a way.

"And surely you're thinking of those life machines. I wouldn't become so helpless, relying on everyone around me until I couldn't even move. Just waiting for someone to pick me off with a knife. Australium is a finite resource. You should know better, Miss Pauling."

She stubbed out a cigarette, slow and precise. Her blood was on Miss Pauling's cheeks, spattered across her dress. There was no date on the corner of the screen. It could have been filmed months ago, years ago, or yesterday.

"I won't go on. This has been your trial by fire. You were my brightest pupil, and if you have succeeded, then you will take my place. Where you take Teufort in this new world without Redmond and Blutarch is of no concern of me. You will know what to do with it. Enclosed inside this envelope is all the information and contracts you'll need."

Another series of deep, hacking coughs. This time she noticed spots of blood on the Administrator's fingers.

"I betrayed only enough to give you the adequate danger to do so, and to show you the consequences of trust and underestimating anyone around you. And I always had an eye on you. If you trusted any of your precious mercenaries, then you were wrong. Even him. Did you forget about the earpiece he's always wearing? Or how easy it is to slip into the machinery, all the hidden ways to allow me access. You've done it hundreds of times in my name, but you never guessed I could do the same."

Miss Pauling flinched at that. Administrator had watched her every movement, judged her, and found her worthy enough to be her successor in spite of it all.

The Administrator took another drag of a cigarette, and the screen went black. The rage had burned to embers inside her. All Miss Pauling could feel was an overwhelming weariness. The war was coming to a close, but she had been the biggest casualty of all.

One day she would mourn for the life she had lost, for the shreds of innocence she had kept through it all. But now, she had work to do. Miss Pauling rubbed her bloodstained hands on her hips, one of the few places that the blood spray hadn't hit. She tapped the microphone, flecked with so much red that she thought it would never come out. But it worked. She wouldn't be surprised of the Administrator's blood was the only one buried deep in that microphone.

"Men, this is Miss Pauling speaking. I'll be taking over for now. Fight and give it your all, and most of all, spare Olivia at any cost," she said.

Her voice held a hollowness. But they fought for her. Her kingdom, her landscape, her mercenaries. How they battled, with unbridled ferocity and rage. She'd once thought them a group of barely literate hired killers, but now she knew better.

"Hey, you're doin' the boss job," Scout said over his earpiece.

"Pay attention, Scout," she said.

"Don't worry, we'll win it for you, Miss Pauling!" Scout burst out.

"For Miss Pauling!" came the battle cry. Each man said it, passed it like a torch lit in her honor.

**.**

It took less than three hours to decimate the last of Olivia's forces. _We have the girl_, Engineer had said over Scout's earpiece. What she would do with Olivia would come later. Perhaps she could make use of her, with better luck than the Administrator had with Gray Mann. But for now, she had other things to attend to.

The day turned to twilight. Metal parts and pieces were scattered across the countryside. Miss Pauling surveyed the damage of what was now her kingdom. The air was bitter with the scent of oil and rust. She saw the figure coming, but did not draw out to meet them, already having an idea who it would be, and what news would come.

Mags came back with his body, or what was left of it. Miss Pauling had never seen her look so bitter and withdrawn, like a piece of her had died with Saxton. Wounds covered her body, over her chest, her arms, even up her neck. She couldn't tell if the blood across her chest was her own, Saxton's, or a mix of the two.

"There's no more robots to fear. Of course he had to go at it alone," she said. Old bitterness and hurts filled her voice. He was draped over her shoulders, bloodied and beaten. Not even Saxton Hale was invulnerable in the end.

She laid him on the ground before Miss Pauling.

"Did he leave a successor?" Miss Pauling said.

"Knowing him, he probably left it up to h_er_," Mags said, with a certain bitterness that time and lost loves had forged.

The woman who had taken Saxton away from her, the woman who had won in the end, even to the death. The Administrator never let go of the people she thought her own; their only escape was death. Either by chance, their choice or hers.

"I'll bury him," she said. "I've buried four husbands, I can bury him, too."

She touched his cheek, beat in and bloody, uncaring at the stain of red left on her skin.

"And to think, I thought we could fight armies together. In the end, not even you could keep up. You really have gotten old, Saxton. So have I. Back then, we thought we were invincible."

It felt too intimate. Miss Pauling pulled back, murmuring and excuse as she stepped away. Mags' grief was too raw, too familiar.

Except there was no Respawn for Saxton Hale. He always resisted any attempts to encode his DNA, saying it took the bite out of all his fights.

**.**

She pulled her hair back. When she looked into the mirror, she barely recognized the person she was. She'd found the suits in the back of her closet. Newly made and just her size, smelling faintly of smoke even through the packaging.

Even as she betrayed them all, Administrator had believed in her. Or to be more precise, she had chosen her for the task, and molded her to fit the role. She'd thrown her into the lake of fire and expected Miss Pauling to find her way out.

She cleared her throat as she took the mic. _"Overtime," _she said.

No, too mousy, too gentle. It lacked the edge of a woman willing to kill to gain what she wanted. She imagined crushing companies and anyone who opposed her under her new purple high heels.

"Hey, beautiful."

She caught sight of him in the mirror. Scout leaned on the door frame like he was striking a pose for a magazine shoot. He always acted like he was being shot in a movie, like he was following a script as the action hero. She'd come to believe that was how he saw himself. Time had made even his attention-seeking and willingness to paint himself the hero or become it endearing.

"You're supposed to be helping the clean up," she said.

"I wanted to see the new digs," Scout said. He looked her over, then gave a grin of approval. "You'll slay 'em all wearin' that."

She gave him a very unprofessional smile. It was the first glint of happiness she'd felt in a long time.

"Have you ever thought about running a store?" she said.

"Never," Scout said. "You want me to? What I gotta do, anyways?"

"If Saxton Hale was any indication, strip off your shirt and yell into the camera and fight bears occasionally while you leave the majority of the business end of things to assistants."

"I'm a champ at pullin' my shirt off, I'm real good at yellin', not so great at bear punchin', but I can learn," Scout said.

"We've both got a lot to learn," she said.

"As far as I can see it, if anybody can handle it, it's you," he said.

"Well, I've survived this long, I suppose I can survive a little longer," she said.

She tapped the microphone again. _Overtime _ she said, more throaty and hoarse this time, from a harsh place inside her which felt no mercy, only cold steel.

"You nailed it," Scout said. "See you later tonight, sexy boss lady!"

He winked as he left, one last moment of flirtation, and plenty more to join it over his earpiece.

The confidence hadn't completely come, but one day it would. Just as she had gotten used to killing, disposing of bodies, so would Administration come. Filling the Administrator's shoes was perhaps the most difficult task she'd even been given, but Miss Pauling knew she could manage.


End file.
